Truth Be Told
by monroeslittle
Summary: Marlie Echolls has as many doubts as any other sixteen-year-old girl. But one thing she never doubted was who her parents were. At least she didn't until a woman knocked on her grandfather's door and dropped the bombshell. Logan/Veronica future fic.
1. Chapter 1

Truth be told, her mother never should have been a mother.

She did love her mom, of course, and she knew that she was a good mother in ways a lot of mothers weren't, in ways a mother was supposed to be good. She never missed a soccer game or school play. She could kiss boo-boos like a pro, make teddy bears talk with ease, and never minded staying up late perfecting the science project or quizzing for the big English test.

But sometimes Marlie couldn't help but wonder if her mother was _meant_ to be a mother. It seemed at times as though her mother were living out a life she hadn't wanted, a life that had been thrust on her against her will, a life that wasn't that which she would have been happiest living.

Marlie had been born, after all, when her parents were only twenty years old. She was an accident, the kind that they warn against in high school health class, the kind that usually results in hushed-up abortions. She obviously hadn't been aborted, though. Her mother had chosen to face the storm and have a baby out of wedlock before she was even legally allowed to drink; her parents' had struggled through college with a baby.

It helped that her dad was loaded.

They had gotten married after school and moved to LA. Her father had gone on to write screenplays; her mother had joined the LAPD. They almost got their shot at living out the lives they would have if Marlie had never been born or at least had been courteous enough to wait until her parents were all grown up and married before deciding to come into the world.

But then her mom had gotten pregnant again. Marlie was six at the time; her parents were both twenty-seven. Knowing her mom — and knowing her dad — Marlie suspected her parents had fought at the time about what would happen next. Her father obviously won. Her parents moved back to their hometown of Neptune, her dad started writing novels, and her mother began her lifelong career of biting her nails restlessly.

Her parents fought a lot during that time; Marlie was old enough to know that.

But that only lasted a few months. Things changed soon after Jason was born. Marlie liked to think that maybe her mom was happy for a little while, probably because she finally won a battle with her husband: he agreed to move them to the East coast where she started a career at the FBI, her true dream. Sometimes Marlie wondered what her life would have been like if they had stayed in Virginia.

But they didn't.

Her mother couldn't live a life of restlessness if she was happily gunning down the bad guys as part of the FBI. Of course, she also couldn't lead a safe life that way, something that Marlie's dad had liked to point out on a daily basis. And her dad had ultimately triumphed when her mom had gotten pregnant for a third time_._

Marlie was eleven at the time and old enough to recognize when her mom threw a hissy fit. Eventually a compromise was reached: her mom would still work for the FBI, but in a much safer capacity and in a place where she'd, surprisingly, have a lot less to do: home sweet home Neptune, California.

Ben was born; life went on.

And things had fallen into a rather predictable routine. They had been in Neptune for the last five years, and Marlie like it there, even if her mother occasionally made smarmy comments to her father about how much she hated Neptune. Things were relatively normal; her parents fought only occasionally. Marlie was pretty sure her mom was happy with three kids, even if this wasn't the life she had planned.

That is, until now.

Because her mom was pregnant . . . _again._

And as Marlie sat on the second landing of the house, her legs dangling through the banister as she peeked down at her parents in the kitchen, she was absolutely positive that her mom was _not_ happy with her fourth pregnancy.

No, judging by how much she was yelling, it looked as if Veronica Echolls was _pissed off_.

"Are you honestly trying to put this on me?" Marlie's dad yelled angrily.

"Yes, I'm putting this on you!" shouted her mother. "It's certainly not my fault I married Mr. FERTILE!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," her dad snapped, "next time you want to have sex I'll be sure to fend you off so that _I _don't get us into any more trouble with my oh-so fertile sperm!" Marlie flinched. She loved her dad, she really, really did, but she was sixteen years old and she did _not_ need to be hearing him talk about sex and his sperm.

"Since I'm some sort of sex maniac!" her mom screamed. "That's right! My entire life is crumbling down around me because I'm a nymphomaniac! Damn, Logan, you've really hit that nail on the head!"

"So now having a kid with me means your entire life is crumbling down? Nice, Veronica, real nice. Why don't you go tell your other three kids that! I'm sure they'd love to hear about it!"

Marlie had to side with her dad on that one. She loved both her parents, but she always had the feeling that it was her dad who loved her back just as much. Her mom loved her, sure, just not as much as she would have loved living free and easy with no children to speak of.

"Don't bring them into this!" her mom snarled.

"They're already in this! You're a mother, Veronica. GET USED TO IT!"

"I AM used to it! But that doesn't mean I have to jump for joy because you managed to knock me up AGAIN!"

The fight went on, but Marlie didn't stay to listen to the rest. She hurried silently down the stairs and slipped out the front door without alerting either of her shrieking parents. Ben was playing in the front yard, and at five years old he didn't seem to care that his parents were shouting their lungs out at one another. She thought it best to get him away anyway, and she grabbed his hand, buckled him into the Honda Civic her dad had bought her, and took him to ice cream.

* * *

Keith Mars was probably one of Marlie's most favorite people in the world.

He was always so full of energy, so full of life, and he was always so very, purely _happy_ to see her. He called her his girl, smiled at her like she was the sun in his sky, and when he didn't think she was looking, would gaze at her as if she were an amazing specimen of the human race. He seemed to be so damn _proud_ to be the grandfather of Marlie Echolls, and receiving that kind of affection went a long way in endearing a person to someone.

His other greatest passion was baseball. Keith Mars loved baseball. Marlie wasn't sure if she loved the ball game because it was a good game to love or because he loved it so much, but she didn't care. Visiting Neptune when she was younger meant one thing to her: sitting on Grandpa's lap in front of the TV with a giant foam finger and screaming at the screen with him.

As she grew older, neither her affection for her grandpa nor for the game wavered. She loved stopping by his house after school, whether he was there or not. If he wasn't, chances were her grandma was. She loved spending time with her grandmother even if the woman wasn't biologically her grandma. It had never been a secret, of course; it would have been impossible to keep a secret, considering the fact that Alicia Mars was black, and, well, the rest of Marlie's family was very, very white.

But she might as well have been her biological grandmother, because he had been married to Grandpa Keith for as long as Marlie could remember and she was the only grandmother she'd ever had. Add to that the fact that she was Uncle Wallace's mother and by marring Grandpa Keith had made Uncle Wally her actual, legal uncle, and Marlie couldn't find a reason _not_ to love Grandma Alicia.

She did wonder sometimes, though, about her real grandmother. She knew that woman was still alive, that her name was Lianne Mars, and that she was a taboo topic in both the Mars and the Echolls households. But that was all she knew. What had she done to alienate her husband and daughter? Nobody would tell Marlie, and honestly, it didn't matter enough for her to insist on it.

* * *

"Do you think it'll be a girl or a boy?" Marlie asked causally, flipping a page in the magazine as she sat at the small island in the kitchen. Her mother was officially four months pregnant today. The barest trace of a bump was visible under her shirt, but really only if a person knew to look for it. Marlie's Uncle Dick had asked her mom two days ago if she had been eating a few too many Twinkies.

"The baby?" asked her mother, not looking up from the lopsided cake she was decorating.

"No, the cake," replied Marlie.

"Well, it's kind of a bulging cake, which I guess would mean it's either really fat or has some serious muscles, and if you go by the muscles theory, then I'd say it's a boy. Although I shouldn't stereo-type, of course; it could be a muscular woman. They do exist."

Marlie just rolled her eyes. From where he sat at the table, pretending to do his math homework but really sitting restlessly wishing he was outside, Jason piped up. "Girls don't have muscles, Mom! At least not like us guys!"

"I'm sorry, us?" repeated Marlie. "Since when did you get muscles, Jay?"

"Been working on it for a while," he answered, jumping to his feet. "So did you get your tickets?" Marlie knew what was coming next. Her mother was more indulgent than her.

"To what?"

"The gun show!" ten-year-old Jason exclaimed, flexing his thin arms.

"Hon, if those are guns, I can stop wearing my bullet-proof vest."

Jason didn't seem to care. Having decided to make his escape, he was running down the hall shouting for Ben. Veronica didn't try and stop him; she only went on decorating her cake, a slightly bemused expression on her face.

"Seriously," Marlie said after a moment. "Do you think I'm going to get yet another _loaded_ little brother, or are you finally going to give me a sister?"

"If I remember my bio class right," her mom answered, "that's a question for your dad, kid." When Marlie didn't reply, her mom finally looked up, smiling softly. "Honestly, Marlie, I have no idea. I'll find out at the next doctor's appointment."

"What do you want it to be?"

Her mom didn't reply immediately. "I'll be happy with either," she finally said. Marlie resisted the urge to ask _Wouldn't you be happier with neither?_ "But I suppose," her mom went on softly, "another girl would be nice."

"As long as she's as fabulous as me, right?" Marlie asked.

"Well if she's not," Veronica said, taking on an accent, "I sure as hell ain't keeping her."

Marlie imagined what it would be like to have a sister. Having brothers was annoying, she could say that much. She knew that, yes, deep down she loved Jason and Ben, but it would have been so much fun to grow up with a sister. Even if this baby was a girl, it would only be a few more years before Marlie was out of the house. It wouldn't be the same. Still. . . .

"Did you ever wish you had a sister?" Marlie asked her mom.

Veronica had put her attention back on the cake and was adding the finishing icing trim when Marlie spoke, and she froze at the words. Marlie frowned. Her mother swallowed and continued on the cake. "At times when I was little, sure."

"Do you know why Grandpa and your mom decided not to have any more kids?"

"No," she answered curtly.

"Do you have a guess? Maybe your mom thought she could only handle one kid if she still wanted a career." Marlie wasn't sure what she herself was getting at, but she supposed she was trying to hint at her mother to comment on her own conflicts considering children and a career.

It would be nice to hear her mother say that she loved her children more than any career.

"I have no idea, really," her mother said, finishing with the cake. She glanced briefly at Marlie, giving a tight, tense smile.

"Do you think that your mom chose her career over —?"

"My mother's only career," Veronica snapped, cutting in, "was being a drunk." She turned point blank away from Marlie and began piling dishes into the sink, turning the water on full blast, as if to drive home further the fact that she didn't want to talk.

Marlie could take a hint. She went back to her magazine.

* * *

Maybe it would have happened differently if her grandparents hadn't gotten a new puppy. It had been years since their last dog had passed away, and they had finally decided they ought to get a new one. Marlie loved her own sweet pitbull, officially named Backup Junior but affectionately dubbed BJ by herself and her brothers, and she was more than happy to sit for her grandparents and play with the new puppy when they wanted to go out on a date.

Yes, her grandparents went on dates.

She was in their house by herself late on a Wednesday night, playing on the floor of the living room with the new pitbull and half-watching a game on ESPN classics. School was still in session, and Marlie knew her mother was going against her own wishes in allowing her to stay over this late. As if Veronica didn't do worse things growing up; Marlie knew the stories.

The crazy woman would be over to pick her up any moment, though. "If your grandpa and grandma aren't back by then," her mom had told her on the phone a few minutes ago, "we can just bring the puppy home with us. I'll raise your allowance if you can get him to pee on your dad's new leather chair."

The doorbell rang. Marlie reluctantly dragged herself to her feet. She knew it wasn't her mother; Veronica would have barged right in. But then who would be stopping by the house at nearly eleven at night?

The woman on the doorstep wasn't anyone Marlie recognized. But the older woman seemed to recognize Marlie, and she stared at her intently, making Marlie extremely uncomfortable. "Um . . . hi?" she said, her brow crinkling.

"Hi!" the woman answered a little breathlessly, as if she had realized she was staring. "I — you must be Marlene," she said, smiling. There was something familiar about her, and somehow Marlie felt as if she knew the woman, though she was positive she had never seen the blonde hair tinted with silver and the bright blue eyes . . . at least, not combined with the aged woman.

"Most people call me Marlie," she answered timidly. "Do I . . . do I know you?" she asked.

"Of me," answered the woman. "You know of me."

That really wasn't the answer for which Marlie had been searching. She shifted slightly where she stood, half behind the door. Was she supposed to invite the stranger in?

"Is your father here?" the woman asked suddenly, nervously.

Marlie's frown deepened. "No. . . ."

The blonde deflated slightly. "When will he be back?"

Marlie was even more confused. "When will he be back?" she repeated, unsure of herself. Her father didn't _live_ here. Was this woman some crazed fan of her dad's movies? But then why would she have gotten the wrong house?

The woman nodded. "Keith," she said, "when will he be back?"

And Marlie was officially floored. Did the woman think she was Keith's child? Did she think that Marlie was _Veronica_? But no, she had known Marlie's name . . . but then why was she asking about . . . ? It didn't make any sense.

"Soonish," Marlie finally answered. She hoped he would be back soon. Maybe he could explain all this. "Keith will be back . . . soonish."

"Ah, well, then, could I . . ." the woman was quickly becoming flustered. Her eyes desperate, she asked at last, "Could I maybe come in and wait for him?" When Marlie looked uncertain, she added hastily, "I'd really like to see Keith . . . and Veronica and just . . . catch up. I've missed them."

"Okay," Marlie agreed hesitantly. She stepped back, opening the door all the way and allowing the woman to pass her by into the house. She smelled like cigarettes. Grandma Alicia would definitely _not_ approve. "Ah, have a . . . seat, I guess," Marlie offered awkwardly when they reached the living room.

The woman sat down stiffly on the couch, glancing softly at the now sleeping puppy. "He's cute," she said. "Looks just like Backup did when he was little."

"Yeah," said Marlie, unsure how she was supposed to respond. Was this woman some old family friend? She sat down nervously on the chair across from the woman. "So . . . I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but, um, what's your name?"

The woman gave a strangled laugh. "I haven't even told you that, yet, have I?" she said. "I'm sorry." She gave a nervous smile. "Why don't I start with something else?" Marlie didn't understand, but before she could say so, the stranger went on. "What did your father tell you about . . . your mother?"

Marlie could only frown. Did her mom have some sort of big, bad secret? Her curiosity was peaked. She knew her mother had a rather sordid past; she knew of the murder of Lilly Kane and the bus crash and the Hearst campus rapes. Most of the stories had been glossed over, and most were told by her father and featured him as a white knight. Her mother usually didn't elaborate on the stories; she only rolled her eyes and added snarky, teasing comments.

"About what?" she asked slowly.

"About who she was," answered the woman. "What she was like and . . . _where_ she was."

Marlie really had no answer this time. She knew exactly where her mother was: she was on her way to pick Marlie up right at this exact moment. Any minute she would come into the house. Right now Marlie was more interested in knowing who the strange woman who knew her name and asked about Keith was.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Marlie said after a beat.

This time it was the woman who frowned. Before she could say anything, though, noises came from the kitchen, clearly the sound of the back door opening and closing. "Marlie!" her mom called. "You ready to go? And you better have not let the dog go in the yard — I meant what I said about your dad's lazy chair. I honestly think he loves it more than me."

Her mother appeared in the doorway with her mouth open to say more. But she froze.

"Veronica!" exclaimed the older woman, jumping to her feet.

"Hey Mom," Marlie greeted slowly.

"Mom?" repeated the stranger, her eyes going wide. "Did she just call you _Mom_?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Marlie asked, confused. "I thought you knew who I was. . . ."

"What are you doing here?" Veronica addressed the older woman, her voice steely.

"I came here to . . . to see you and . . . Marlene. Marlie. I came to see you and Marlie," answered the woman nervously, her eyes flickering from Veronica to Marlie for a moment.

"You can't just show up like this," Veronica snapped angrily, her eyes ablaze. "We have a life, you know."

"I know, I know, but . . . wait, I still don't understand. Did you tell her that _you're_ her mother?" asked the older woman.

Something inside Marlie dropped. What was going on . . . ? "What is that supposed to mean?" Marlie questioned, her gaze going back and forth between her mother and the stranger.

"I thought you would tell her that Keith was her father and that . . .," began the woman, clearly confused. She turned to Marlie. "Honey, I don't know what they've told you," she said, taking a step towards Marlie, "but I'm —"

"Mom!" Veronica snapped, her eyes flashing.

"_Mom_?" I repeated in disbelief. The woman glanced at Veronica. Suddenly her blonde hair and blue eyes and nose and face and _everything_ seemed familiar. This woman was . . . this was Lianne Mars. This was her real grandmother. Except. . . .

"You need to get out of here," Veronica said, ignoring Marlie and focusing her burning eyes on the stranger, on Lianne Mars, on _her mother_. "You can't come back here after all these years and throw our lives into chaos. Especially not after the way you left last time. Dad and I have been through enough!"

"Oh, sweetie, I know, and I'm so sorry!" protested Lianne. "But I've missed you so much! You and your dad and Marlene! All I've wanted to do these past sixteen years is come home, but I was too afraid and I — but I'm sober now, Veronica! I have been for nearly a year! I'm really getting my life together and I just wanted —!"

"_No!_" Veronica cut in angrily. "Get out of this house! Stay away from Dad! Stay away from me, and _stay away from MY daughter_! She's mine, Mom. She's mine!"

Lianne Mars had begun to cry. Veronica Echolls didn't seem to care.

"Leave," Veronica demanded.

And Marlie was getting frustrated. What were they talking about? What were they hinting at? What didn't she know? _She's mine, Mom. She's mine! _Why did she shout that?

Lianne started for the door.

"Wait!" Marlie protested. "Tell me what's going on!"

"I'm sorry," Lianne whined, glancing tearfully between Veronica and Marlie.

"Just tell me what's going on!" Marlie insisted. "You're my grandmother, right?" Lianne let out a choking sob, putting her hand to her mouth and shaking her head. Marlie felt the ground shift under her a little. A tiny voice in her head was whispering at her to stop, to let it go, to allow her mother to kick the woman out of the house, but. . . .

"Marlene Mackenzie Echolls, not another word out of you!" shouted her mother, glaring at her.

"But —!"

"You'll be grounded for so long you'll forget what the sun looks like!" her mom threatened. Anger bubbled up in Marlie. Veronica turned on her own mother. "Out," she snapped. "Get out of my father's home and out of my life, _now_. You shouldn't have come back."

Lianne fled.

"Why did you just send her away like that?" Marlie immediately yelled. "She's your mother! You can't just treat her like that! And what was she trying to tell me? Why didn't she know you're my mother? Why did she say she wasn't my grandmother?" She fired question after question at her mother.

"Do not tell me how to deal with _my_ mother, Marlene. There are some things in this life that you do _not_ understand, no matter how much you think you do. My mother is one of those things. And as for what she was saying — that's-that's none of your business!"

"No," Marlie said furiously, "it _is_ my business!" And she ran for the door.

"MARLENE!" shouted her mother. "COME BACK HERE!"

But Marlie didn't heed her. She ran out of the house, stumbling slightly in the darkness. The stars were particularly bright, but the moon was only a thin sliver. She could still see Lianne at the end of the driveway about to get into a beat up old truck. She sprinted to catch her in time, ignoring her mother's frantic shouts behind her.

"Wait!" she demanded breathlessly. "Please! Wait! Tell me what's going on!"

She caught the older woman in time, but Lianne only shook her head. "I shouldn't," she said. "Not if Veronica doesn't want me to . . . I have no right." She turned painfully away from Marlie, swatting at the tears in her eyes and climbing into her truck.

"I have a _right_ to know!" Marlie declared.

The woman slammed the door shut.

"MARLENE!" her mother shouted, running down the driveway towards them.

"Please," Marlie pleaded through the open window of the truck. The woman started the engine. "What don't I know?"

"I'm not your grandmother," Lianne told her softly, sadly, tears still leaking from her eyes. "Because I'm your _mother_."

**To Be Continued. . . .**

* * *

_A/N: I have_ _most of this story already written and I had intended on writing it all before I began posting, but I wanted to start posting now because I'm so excited! It won't take me too much longer to finish and during that time I'll be posting the chapter I have already written anyway. I know this left a LOT to be explained after this first chapter, but don't worry, I promise it all will be. There will be some flashbacks as well as snitbits from other characters' POV. As I always do, I ask that you please, please review! It makes my day :)_


	2. Chapter 2

"_And then Peter told him the truth, told him that I had been the one to track down the gas station attendant and the AD was so impressed that he didn't even punish me for accessing their computer database without permission!" Veronica exclaimed happily._

_Keith chuckled, shooting her an affection glance as he pushed the turn signal on and turned right down the road. They would be home in a few more minutes. Veronica was happy to see her father and she couldn't wait to catch up with Mac and Wallace — e-mail was not good enough — but she couldn't help but be a little sad to have finished her FBI internship._

_Her solution was to talk her father's ear off. The entire internship had been _amazing_: she had become good friends with her badass roommate Jenna; earned the respect of several of the agents she'd worked with; and even if she was stuck behind a tiny desk for most of the summer, she did get a chance to get her hands dirty._

_She wanted to make sure she told her father every detail. _

_As an added bonus, if she was gushing about her internship, she and her father wouldn't have to broach the painful topic that was the Sheriff election. Keith Mars was a P.I. once more and Neptune was under the care of Vinnie Van Lowe. Can you say going to hell in a hand basket?_

"_Honey," Keith said, interrupting Veronica before she could even begin on her next story. "Before we get back to the house, there's something I need to tell you." _

_His voice was too serious. Veronica immediately tensed. "Okay. . . ."_

"_We have a guest at the house. She's been staying with me for . . . for most of the summer, actually, and she'll be staying for a while longer," Keith began hesitantly._

"_Alicia!" Veronica exclaimed. "Dad, I know I said I was happy that you two had started seeing each other again — I always hated the way you just fell apart — but seriously, Dad, I think it's a little too soon to be _living_ together! And has anybody told Wallace? He gets back from Africa tomorrow. Did you keep it a secret all summer from him, too?"_

"_Wait! Wait! Slow down," Keith said, turning into their apartment complex. "Alicia isn't the guest. We are still dating and its going very well, but we're not living together and we won't be for a long time."_

_Veronica frowned. If it wasn't Alicia, then who was it?_

"_I know you're going to be upset that I'm letting her stay with us . . . and that I didn't tell you earlier, but Veronica, sweetie, this isn't something I wanted to tell you over the phone and I didn't want it to ruin your time in Virginia at all." Keith parked the car._

"_Who is it, Dad?" asked Veronica, an edge to her voice. This didn't sound good. _

"_Your mom." _

_Veronica found she was literally speechless for a moment. "Mom?" she slowly repeated. "My mom? As in Lianne Mars, the drunk who screwed us over two times? That mom?!" Anger was quickly crashing into Veronica in waves. She looked at the door to their apartment as if she expected Lianne to pop out of it right at that moment._

"_Honey, she's actually been sober for a while now," said Keith slowly._

"_You don't honestly believe that do you?" Veronica snarled. He sighed, looking away from him. "You're not getting back together with her, are you?" Veronica asked, horrified. "I thought you were happy with Alicia!" she accused._

"_I AM happy with Alicia," Keith told her, his face set as he turned to her. "I am not getting back with Lianne. I loved her once but that time has long since past. However, we're the only family she has and —"_

"_She's _not_ our family," Veronica spat._

"_She's your mother."_

"_As far as I'm concerned," Veronica replied, not missing a beat, "I don't _have_ a mother." She and Keith stared at one another in a silent battle of wills. She couldn't believe this. How could her father openly invite that woman into their home? As if things weren't bad enough as it were. . . ._

"_I know you're upset, Veronica. But I've made my decision. This is my home and I have a right to let important people in our lives stay in my home. You're getting a dorm with Mac this year, right? You won't even have to see her that often."_

"_So you're saying you don't want me to come visit you?" Veronica challenged._

_Keith let his gaze burn into her. "You know that's not what I want. I hate having to part with you, even if it's to let you have the 'true college experience,'" he said softly. "There is no one in this world I love more than you, Veronica. But this woman . . . she's your mother, she was my wife for years, and she's scared and alone and she needs _our_ help."_

_Veronica looked away from him._

_It didn't deter him. "I am so proud of all that you are, Veronica. And I know you've seen a lot of horrible things, and I'm happy that you still chug along despite all those horrible things. But I'd hate to think I raised a daughter who was resilient but not decent."_

"_And the only for me to be decent is to let the mother who _abandoned_ me stay in my home?" asked Veronica, staring petulantly out the windshield of the car. She suddenly wasn't so keen on going into the house._

"_There are lots of ways to be decent. But it only takes one cruel action to _keep_ someone from being decent. And turning your mother out at this point would be cruel, Veronica," said Keith, "it's that simple."_

"_Why?" Veronica rounded on him. "Why do we have to let her stay with us? Why do we have to take care of her? Why should we be kind to her? Why does she need us so damn badly?"_

"_Because," Keith sighed, "she's pregnant."_

* * *

She knew that what Lianne Mars had told her was the truth. The look on her mom's face as the truck pulled out of the driveway and Marlie turned breathlessly to face Veronica was proof enough.

"You're not my mother?" Marlie breathed. _That doesn't even make any sense_! her mind screamed. But then why had Lianne said that? And why was her mother looking at her like _that_?

"I _am_ your mother, Marlie. I always have been and I always will be," Veronica declared firmly. Her face softened, though, and she reached out a hand towards Marlie.

Marlie stepped back, her heart pounding loudly. "But not _really,_" Marlie accused, "not . . . _biologically_." Veronica glanced away for a moment, and Marlie swallowed thickly. When her mother — when the woman who she had always thought was her mother — turned to face Marlie again, her jaw was set.

"No, not biologically," Veronica answered. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Biologically you're my half-sister. Lianne Mars is our mother. I don't know who your real father is."

Marlie didn't know what to say. She could only stare. How had this happened so suddenly? How had a perfectly normal Wednesday night turned into _this_?

"My mom showed up out of the blue right after my twentieth birthday," Veronica went on. "My dad and I hadn't seen her since the end of my junior year of high school when she left us for the second time. I hated her for that, for leaving us twice, for the way she had become a drunk who cheated on my father, for stealing thousands and thousands of dollars from us. But she was six months pregnant and my dad couldn't say no to her. She had no where else to go. He let her stay with us."

"And what, you stole her baby?" Marlie exclaimed in disbelief. But no, she knew what was coming next.

"No, Marlene," Veronica replied. "Our _wonderful_ mother left a third time. But she left you behind. And . . . and you became mine."

Marlie didn't know how to respond. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to react to this? She knew one thing: she couldn't stand there in that driveway talking to her mother for another moment. "I . . . I can't do this right now," she said, her voice tight.

"Marlie," Veronica murmured, reaching for her again. "Come inside; we _need_ to talk about this."

Marlie backed away from her for a second time. "You're not my mother," she said, still trying to grasp the concept. Veronica just stood there, and maybe if had been lighter out, maybe if Marlie could have more easily seen and read the expression on her face, she wouldn't have run.

But it _was_ dark, she _couldn't_ see more than shadows on Veronica's face, and she _did_ run. She turned and ran, even as the lights of a car appeared ahead and a moment later Keith and Alicia turned into the driveway. Marlie didn't pause. She kept running.

She went down a mental list of people to whom she could talk, from whom she could seek refuge if even for only one night. She couldn't deal with her mom. She just couldn't. The woman wasn't even her mom!

She couldn't go to her dad, either. _He wasn't actually her dad_.

If she were honest with herself that was probably what broke her heart the most at that moment. Her dad, her beloved snarky father who loved surfing as much as her grandpa loved baseball, her wonderful, wonderful _Daddy_ . . . wasn't even related to her. He was just her _sister's_ husband.

She couldn't face him. She couldn't go to her grandpa either. He wasn't actually related to her either. He was simply her real mother's ex-husband. She couldn't deal with him, with _that_, right now. Besides, Veronica was probably with him and Alicia.

None of her friends would understand. She wasn't one of those kids who were close with the neighbors or with her teachers. She didn't have a boyfriend. Who did she go to? She thought briefly of Sam but discarded the thought quickly. A good answer didn't take too long to occur to her, however; he wasn't biologically related to her, but he never had been and that made it a hell of a lot easier to know, steadfastly, that he was her uncle.

It was her aunt Penny who opened the door. "Marlie? What's the matter?" Aunt Penny immediately asked, stepping forward with her brow creased in concern. Marlie knew she must look terrible; she had run all the way to the bus stop and then taken the rather gross public transportation to the house. She hadn't started crying, though. That was something in her favor.

"Is Uncle Wally home?" she asked. She hadn't called him Uncle Wally in a long time, not since she was a little girl. But right at that moment she felt like a little girl, and she wanted her big, strong, playful Uncle Wally to comfort her.

"Of course, of course," Aunt Penny said, allowing Marlie to enter the house. "He's in the kitchen. . . ." Marlie made a beeline in the direction, but she didn't make it all the way there before her uncle Wallace appeared in the doorway, looking slightly confused.

"Hey, girl," he greeted, "what are you doing over here this late?"

Suddenly she felt tears welling in her eyes. His confusion turned to concern and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. "Hey, hey," he soothed, "it's okay, it's okay." She clutched at him as they stood there in the hallway. He knew the truth; he had to know it. He had known her mom for years. He had to know that she wasn't her mother's daughter.

She wasn't an Echolls.

Eventually she calmed down and Aunt Penny got her to sit at the kitchen table with a glass of chocolate milk while she cut a slice of cheese cake for her. Uncle Wallace was sitting beside her at the table, obviously biting at the bit to ask what was going on, but he seemed to know he wouldn't get anything out of her. All she had told him was that she had to get away from her house.

The phone rang. Uncle Wallace picked it up at the same time Aunt Penny set the cake down in front of Marlie. She gave her aunt a small smile of thanks, even as she winced when she heard her uncle Wallace say into the phone, "Hey, V." It was her mom calling. _She's not my mom. _Of course she would call here. She must have gone through the same thought process that Marlie had.

She could feel Uncle Wallace's eyes on her as she mechanically ate the cake and he talked on the phone, but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead her eyes landed on the kitchen window. It was so dark out that her reflection, though a little distorted, could be seen on the glass. She stared for a moment. Her blonde hair had much more of a curl to it than Veronica's but it was still the very same color blonde, and her blue eyes might be a shade closer to green than Veronica's but they were still eerily similar. She didn't look anything like Logan Echolls.

How come she had never noticed that before?

Well, she _had_, but. . . . He had once told her that she didn't have any of his looks because she had his attitude. She had been around eleven at the time. "Bailey says that babies look a lot like their dads the first year of their lives. Did I look like you when I was a baby?" she'd asked him with open, honest curiosity. She was rather obsessed with her dad at that time; he was her best friend then.

He'd been quiet for a long time, his eyes frozen on the paper. Why hadn't that seemed suspicious at the time? She had only been eleven, but _still_! "Baby, you're a clone of your mom. Always have been," he'd finally answered, before added softly, "and I wouldn't have you any other way."

The sound of her uncle Wallace hanging up the phone drew her attention away from the reflection and to him. "That was your mom," he told her unnecessarily.

She knew that he must have been told what happened, and she couldn't help the bitter response that she spat. "Which one?" He was silent for a moment, and his steady stare nearly had her ashamed at the two words.

"Your real one," he finally answered. "The one who's been taking care of you since the day you were born. The one who raised you. The one who would do anything for you. Your _mom_."

"The one who lied to me," Marlie added. "You forgot that."

But he didn't respond to that. Maybe that's why she had come here. After all, there had been a few other options — Aunt Mac, for example. She knew that with Uncle Wallace, though, she wouldn't be pestered. After all the years he'd spent being Veronica's best friend, Wallace Fennel had become an expert at waiting patiently to be confided in.

"You mom said you can stay here tonight if you want," he told her softly. "I think she knows you need space." He paused. "I'll go pick up some clothing for you. You still have school tomorrow, you know."

Marlie wasn't sure about a lot of things at that moment, but she was positive about one: she was most certainly _not_ going to school the next day.

* * *

Logan Echolls, despite having known her for the better part of his life, had still only seen his wife cry a handful of times. And every single time, it still managed to shock him, break his heart, and piss him off at whoever had caused it.

But how could he be pissed at his daughter? "And she just . . . just _ran_, Logan, she just ran away! The way she was looking at me — I did it all for her!" Veronica wailed. "I was trying to keep her from going through what I went through! I wasn't trying to hurt her!"

"I know," he said softly, rubbing her back as she clutched at him on the couch, tears streaming down her face, her nose running, and her tiny body rocking with soft sobs. She had come home an hour later than he'd been expecting. She'd been without Marlie and she'd looked as if she'd been hit by a bus . . . emotionally, at least.

The entire story had tumbled out of her and she'd fallen into his arms crying. He knew a part of her tears was due to hormones — Veronica tended to get either very, very bitchy when she was hormonal or very, very weepy. Being weepy and actually weeping were two very different things, though.

But he also knew some of her tears were due to how it had all finally come out. He had always known that sometime the truth would be revealed; Veronica had known the same. He had always imagined, however, that they would be the ones to sit her down and tell her the truth someday. It had never occurred to him that Lianne would ever come _back _. . . especially not after all these years.

"So she's with Wallace?" he asked her. She nodded into his chest. "She'll be fine there. We can talk with her tomorrow." That didn't seem to be much comfort to Veronica. She continued sobbing into his chest.

"Do you know what she said?" Veronica cried. "She said — she said — she just looked right at me and said 'you're not my mother.' And then she ran away! The way she was looking at me, I just — I just —!" she hiccoughed, unable to finish.

"Hey, hey," Logan said, pulling away from her long enough to look into her eyes. He wiped away the tears on her face with his thumb, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You _are_ her mother, Veronica. I'm her father. We're her parents. That will never change. She knows that and even if Lianne is back, it doesn't change anything. We're still her parents."

"I know," Veronica whispered sadly. She looked up at him with her eyes that were wide and innocent as he so rarely saw them. "But I just hope she knows that I . . . how much I. . . ."

"How much you love her?" Logan offered. Veronica nodded, sniffling. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "She knows," he whispered into her hair as his hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back. "She knows."

* * *

_Veronica couldn't be bothered to knock._

_She slid the card key in and out with ease and then pushed the door open. She was met with the site of Dick Casablancas wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and drinking milk straight from the carton. Great. Exactly what she wanted to deal with._

"_Ronnie!" Dick exclaimed. "A whole summer away from the rich California dudes make your horny? Already back for more?"_

"_Where's Logan?" Veronica asked, ignoring his comments. She had long ago become immune to all things Dick Casablancas. She crossed the room and stuck her head into his bed room; he wasn't there._

"_Now, Ronnie, I really think you need to leave Logan alone. You've ridden that one into the ground."_

"_Where is he?" Veronica insisted, grinding her teeth. Her insides were in tumult at that moment; she could barely see straight for all of the anger and anxiety and confusion and shock and . . . everything. "I need to talk to him."_

"_Are you pregnant?" Dick asked, still smiling. _

"_And if I am?" she snarled. "Are you really going to let the woman carrying your best buddy's heir do whatever she wants with the child? Or are you going to TELL ME WHERE HE IS?!"_

"_What?"_

_Veronica spun around to see Logan standing in the doorway beside a tween-aged girl staring with an open, round mouth and holding his hand. "Veronica?" Logan asked. "Are you . . . ?"_

"_Pregnant?" she said, shocked. How had she gotten herself into this conversation, again? "NO! I'm not pregnant! I'm _not_!" She shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake. This had been the first place to which she'd turned for comfort; it had been pure instinct, and apparently it was proof that her instinct was badly out of tune._

"_Then what are you . . . ?" Logan began. His tween friend — Veronica had met her once, she thought — was still standing beside him with her large eyes trained on Veronica._

"_I'm going. I shouldn't have come here," Veronica dismissed, already trying to side step past him and out of the Grand. _

"_Wait, whoa, stop for a second," Logan said, reaching out and grabbing her arm before she could make her escape. "What's going on? What happened?" His eyes were concerned as they searched her face and even if it wasn't a good excuse for what happened next, it was the best one she had._

_Against her will, she began to cry. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop, but it was to no avail. Tears welled up, her face seized in a sob and she clutched at her mouth. "Are you crying?" Dick said, dumbfounded at the sight. Veronica paid him no mind and neither did Logan._

_He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her and she suddenly found herself sobbing into his shirt. He smelt so good, so familiar, and his arms around her were the comfort they always had been, the comfort that she'd needed the night Cassidy Casablancas had killed himself, the comfort that she'd so unwillingly missed over the summer, her first summer apart from Logan in a long time._

"_My mom," she said, barely able to get the words out. She knew she'd have to explain it all to him, but he asked nothing of her now, and for that she was grateful. She clung to him, not caring about the almost-teenage girl or a half-naked Dick. Logan didn't say anything, but he ran his hand up and down her back and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her head. "She's back," Veronica choked. "And she's pregnant."_

_There. That was enough._

_Somehow she ended up sitting on his couch wrapped in one of his sweatshirts. She had a glass of water, Dick had been shooed from the suite, and Heather — that was the kid's name — was in Logan's room, respectfully giving Veronica her privacy. Veronica's cries had ended and a part of her felt mortified at her impulsive visit to Logan and her unstoppable tears. She hadn't seen him all summer and when she finally does, she. . . ._

"_So what's going on?" Logan asked, one of his large, warm hands resting on her knee. _

"_I'm sorry," Veronica said, not answering his question. She didn't meet his gaze. "I don't want you out of my life, Logan. I don't think I could handle having you out of my life. I'm sorry for ever saying that."_

"_It's okay," he murmured._

_There was a lot more she should have said. During spare moments in Virginia, when Jenna was on a date and Veronica had the dorm to herself with nothing to do or other such times, she had thought about exactly what she _should_ say._

_She should have told him that she was sorry for how she'd treated him with suspicion when they were together. She was sorry that she had let him walk away believing she didn't need him right before everything with Mercer. She was sorry she didn't go to get him out of prison after he beat Mercer and Moe to a pulp, even though she had desperately wanted to just that._

_She was sorry that she had forgiven Madison but stubbornly refused to forgive him. She was sorry that she had been ashamed of herself for falling right back into Logan's arms, so ashamed that she had used the first excuse she could to storm away in anger, even if that excuse was as stupid as a drunken mistake with Madison Sinclair. _

_But she couldn't make herself say all of those things. _

"_My mom's back," Veronica said softly. "She's back and she's staying with us and my dad's letting her because she's gone and gotten herself knocked up. She's nearly six months pregnant. She claims she hasn't been drinking, but who knows. . . ."_

"_I'm sorry," Logan said, squeezing her knee. She gave him a small smile._

_There was a thick silence before she found her voice again. "What, ah, what's going on with Gory? Has he . . . has he talked to you or anything at all?" A chance of subject seemed like a good idea to her._

"_He tried to beat me up in a parking lot a few weeks after you left," Logan answered casually. Veronica was alarmed. Logan smirked when he saw her expression. "Don't worry. His posse got a few punches in; Dick and I got a few punches in. Despite what our childhoods imply, not every death threat is a legitimate one."_

"_So that's it?" Veronica asked with clear disbelief. She almost wished there was more. She wished she had a new assignment: bring down Gory before he could stab Logan in a dark alleyway. At least it'd be an exciting distraction from Lianne Mars, her unborn child and her begging, pleading eyes as she told a disgusted Veronica her sob story._

"_Well, it basically went like this," Logan told her. "He punched me; I punched him. I told him to stay the fuck away from you. He said he could have me killed and I had no idea who I was messing with. I told him my father was a raping, murdering asshole, and maybe he could have me killed but if he went any where near you I'd personally kill him, and then Dick said 'yeah!' really loudly, and then everybody went home. I don't know what he did next, but I watched American Idol."_

_Veronica didn't know whether to laugh or slap him. She chose simply to shake her head. Before either of them could say anything else, Veronica's cell phone began to buzz. Veronica gave Logan an apologetic smile before glancing at the caller ID. It was her dad. _

"_Hey," she greeted softly._

_She had left the house that morning before he had even woken up. She had spent the whole evening listening to her mother pitifully harp on about how hard her life was and then spent the entire night staring at her ceiling wishing her dad wasn't such a softie. By the time the sun rose, all she wanted was to get out of the house._

"_Where are you?" her dad asked._

"_I'm with Logan. I came here this morning. I needed somebody to talk to." It was an honest answer, and if her father didn't like that, then fine, he could deal with it. She didn't like the fact that he was forcing Lianne on her but she was going to have to deal with it._

"_And your first choice was Logan?" _

"_Do you really want to get in a fight about this right now?" she replied bitingly._

_He sighed. "No, I don't. If you get a chance could you pick up some ice cream? Maybe some Rocky Road? I know you're meeting Wallace and Mac later, but. . . ."_

"_Is Lianne having a craving?" Veronica asked, sneering. She hoped he could hear the disdain in her voice. She couldn't help it: the only way to deal with her emotions was to be angry and let the anger dominate everything else. She knew none of this was her dad's fault, but that didn't stop her._

"_Just pick it up, please."_

_He sounded so tired that she felt a twinge of guilt. "Okay. I'll get it now. See you in a little bit."_

"_Thanks, honey. See you soon."_

_She flipped the phone shut. She gave an almighty sigh, slowly turning to face Logan with a grim expression. "Did I ever tell you that I hate my life?"_

_Logan gave a soft, knowing smile. "Life's a bitch, right?" he said. She smiled too._

"_Something like that."_

_She didn't know why, but as she was walking out the door, she turned around at the last minute. "I broke up with Piz right before I left for Virginia." He didn't say anything. She didn't expect him to. "I just wanted you to know."_

* * *

"I want to talk to her."

Marlie made the announcement with a firm voice, her face set and her eyes determined. She had stayed up half the night thinking about it, and that morning when she had asked Uncle Wallace to drive her home rather than to school so she could talk to her mother, she had known it was the first thing that would leave her mouth.

She stood in the doorway of their home now, her little brothers were both in pajamas eating cereal, and her mother stood in a nightgown staring. She didn't look good, her mother, but Marlie didn't care. Her mother wasn't the one who had been lied to her entire life.

Veronica turned towards Jason and Ben. "Boys, the clock's a tickin': time to dress for success. The bus will be here for you any minute, Jay, and Dad'll be down to take you to school soon, too, Ben." When both boys only stared at her, she added, "Upstairs! Clothing! You! Now!" Glancing between Marlie and Veronica, they slowly followed instructions and trudged upstairs.

Veronica turned her back to Marlie and began working on an omelet. "Why don't you have a seat, Marlie," she said softly, her voice carefully calm.

Marlie hadn't planned on moving from the doorway, but Uncle Wallace softly pushed her into the house as he followed after her, shutting the kitchen door behind him. "Morning V," he greeted softly, and Veronica sent him a small smile as he put a bagel from the counter in the toaster and then sat down at the kitchen table. It was evident even to a stranger that he had spent plenty of mornings there.

"Do you want an omelet, Marlie?" asked her mother, still not looking at her.

"I want to talk to her," Marlie repeated. "And you can try and put it off, put off talking about this, but it isn't going to work." How could her mother just ignore her like this? How could she try and ignore the problem? Didn't Veronica Echolls consider questioning everyone and everything, rooting out evils, and discovering secrets to be her bread and butter?

"We will talk about it," Veronica answered, "after you have a seat, have some breakfast, and your father comes back from dropping Ben off at school."

Marlie opened her mouth to argue, but her father appeared in the room right at that moment. He was dressed casually and looked the very same as he did every morning. He went to Veronica and pressed a kiss to her temple just as he did every morning. He murmured something about breakfast smelling good just as he did every morning. He poured himself a cup of coffee just as he did every morning.

Then his eyes landed on her.

And Marlie felt the overwhelming urge to cry again. He was her dad, he had been acting that morning as he acted every morning, yet everything was different now. Because every other morning he had been her dad and now . . . now he was nothing. How could that change in one night?

"I'm glad you're home," he told her, his eyes seeming to burn into her. The man knew how to stare. He could stare at you to stop your tears when you'd had a bad day; he could stare at you to assure you that he understood and loved you no matter what. He could stare at you to bring out all your secrets or tell you just how very disappointed he was in you. Right now, though, she had no idea why he stared at her that way.

"I want to talk to her," Marlie told him. "And I want to talk to you about her. You can't deny me that."

"No one ever said we would," he replied softly.

"But you have been my entire life," she snapped back.

And then she was positive of the gleam in his eyes: he was disappointed in her. But she should be the one disappointed in him! He had lied to her; he had pretended to be something to her that he wasn't. But . . . just because he wasn't _actually_ her dad, it didn't mean that he was _nothing_ to her. He was still . . . he was still _hers, _her confidant, her biggest fan, her _daddy._

Wasn't he?

Jason chose that moment to reappear in the room. "Can I have some money for lunch?" he asked Veronica as he ruffled his dark hair and grabbed his backpack from its spot beside the far wall. She tossed him a paper bag. "Aw, c'mon, Mom! I hate having a packed lunch. Nobody else ever does!"

"That makes you special. Some people do crazy things to be special," Veronica replied. "They dye their hair purple, join cults, suck blood. Now you don't have to any of that. _And_ there's a cookie in there. You're welcome."

Jason still looked petulant. But he only said "Fine" and gave Veronica an angry blue-eyed glare when she shot him a 'choose your battles wisely, kid' glance. "Bye Dad," he said. "Bye Uncle Wallace. Bye _Mom."_

"I'll pick you up after school," Logan told him, even as Veronica replied, "I love you, too, smoochums."

Marlie couldn't believe it. The day was going on like every other one. Had no one realized that her _entire_ life had been knocked off its axis? Did no one _care_?

Ben walked into the room, then. Veronica handed him his lunch. "What's in it?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. In stark contrast to his brother, Ben's brown eyes were warm and happy as he looked up at his mother. At five years old, even the simple joy of an exciting packed lunch made Ben happy.

"It's a surprise," Veronica replied as she always did. Ben smiled and gave her a hug, still so young and adoring of his snarky mother.

He was her real mother. There was no doubt about that. Marlie could still remember the day he was born. A sudden thought occurred to her: did her mom love Jason and Ben more than her? They were, after all, her actual children. And, oh God, what about her dad? Surely he loved his sons more than her. Her eyes whipped over to him where he sat eating the omelet Veronica had made him and reading the paper.

He stood up just as Ben came over to him, slipping on his bright red backpack as he walked. "Ready to go?" Logan asked, slowly drawing his eyes away from the paper. Ben nodded. Logan put the paper down and stood.

"Wait!" Marlie shouted, anger bubbling up in her. "What am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you to come back and explain to me why you LIED to me for my ENTIRE life? How can you guys be acting like this?"

"Don't yell in front of Ben," Veronica said slowly, still forcedly calm. It made Marlie even angrier.

"Why not?" she snarled. "You do all the time."

"Marlie," her father said, his voice a warning.

Marlie only scoffed. "You two are unbelievable. I find out last night that you're not my parents and this is the reception I get the next morning. Un_be_lievable." She crossed her arms angrily over her chest.

"What were you expecting?" Veronica asked, the first flash of anger appearing in her eyes. "We _are_ your parents!"

"I was expecting some explanations!" Marlie told her hotly.

"Everything _will_ be explained after your dad drops Ben off at school. I already said that. You may deem it necessary to skip school — and you'll notice we're allowing that — but there is no reason for Ben to do the same. Now _sit._ If you don't want breakfast that's your choice."

"Why doesn't Ben just take the bus like Jason?" Marlie challenged. Every word her mother spoke only made her angrier.

"He doesn't like taking the bus," Veronica replied. "You know that."

"You're spoiling him. Life isn't always what a person likes. Did you hear that, Ben?" she turned on her little brother, who was staring at her with wide, confused eyes. "The world doesn't revolve around you and even if you don't like it, you can take the fucking bus for one day!" Ben ran upstairs, his face anguished. Logan followed right after him.

"MARLINE!" Veronica exploded. "You will _not_ speak to your bother that way EVER. Do you hear me? As far as I can tell you're the only one who's spoiled and _you're _the one that needs to be reminded that the world doesn't revolve around _you!_"

Marlie couldn't take it any more. She obviously wasn't going to get anything out of her so-called parents. "Fine. Whatever. I don't want to deal with you anyway." And with that declaration she turned point blank and walked right back of the house.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Veronica called tritely. Marlie only made sure to slam the door shut behind her. What was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to go? A brief thought fluttered to her mind. But was there a way to find Lianne? Marlie abandoned the thought. She couldn't handle that now.

Before long she found herself in her Honda Civic and driving to her aunt Mac's house. Her mother stepped outside just as Marlie was pulling out of the driveway and Marlie could feel Veronica's blue gaze piercing her through the windshield, but her mother didn't try and stop her and Marlie only slammed on the accelerator.

It sucked that all the adults in her life she could count on were close to her mother, but that was just the way it was. And since Uncle Wallace was out of the running at this point and Grandpa Keith still wasn't an option, Aunt Mac made the most sense for now.

The drive to her house wasn't long, but it was long enough for Marlie to remember something: when Aunt Mac was a teenager she had found out that she'd been switched at birth; she'd discovered that the people she'd always thought were her parents weren't her parents at all and had been lying to her for years. Why hadn't Marlie ever been more interested in that story before now?

If anybody would know how she felt, it would be her aunt Mac.

* * *

_A/N: Here's chapter two! When I orginially wrote the story I just went on and on without stopping to designate chapters. Now that I'm going back and posting it I've tried to split it all up, but natrually some chapters are a little choppier than others and I apologize for that. Also, two memories managed to worm their way into this chapter, but most chapters will only have one. It was either include the second memory and have a longer chapter or not include it and have a much shorter chapter, so. . . ._

_As for Marlie calling Mac "Aunt Mac" -- when I was growing up my mom thought it was disrespectful for me and my siblings to call her friends by their first names but it seemed too informal to address them as Mr. or Mrs., so her small circle of best friends became our surrogate Aunts and Uncles. I assumed the same for Marlie. :)_

_The next chapter will be up soon! Please review.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

Keith had never felt so very old.

Veronica had been a moment from tears when she'd told him, her voice clipped, of Lianne's unexpected arrival. Keith was glad that Alicia had been there at the time. He was too dumbfounded to be any comfort to Veronica. He had honestly thought Lianne would never return.

Was that crazy of him?

The woman hadn't just become an alcoholic who walked out on her husband and daughter when the going got tough, who stole from them and broke their hearts. She'd become the sort of woman who abandoned her small, innocent baby and disappeared into thin air. Ever since their marriage fell apart after Lilly Kane's murder, Keith had felt anger, resentment, pity and annoyance towards his wife.

But truth be told, he didn't really hate her until she left that baby behind. The woman he had once loved would never abandon her child. There was nothing left of that woman, nothing but a shell of a person, and Keith hated that shell. He truly, utterly, completely _hated_ it.

Veronica had relayed everything to them that night before then calling Mac and Wallace and locating Marlie, all the while letting Alicia try and sooth her. But eventually his hardened daughter had left, and he had known she would go to Logan as her greatest source of comfort. Keith had long ago acknowledged that Logan was good for his daughter. It hadn't been easy, but the kid had redeemed himself; nothing was better proof of that than how he had acted when everything had happened with Marlie all those years ago. . . .

It seemed unreal to Keith. It was all a bad dream. He loved Marlie as if she really were his granddaughter. He adored her. He would do anything for her. And it had been so easy to pretend over the years that she really was Veronica's biological daughter. But she wasn't. Veronica was still her mother, though. He was as sure of that as he had been that he was Veronica's father, even before he had ordered a test.

And what did Lianne want? Had she come simply to invade their lives, shatter their armor and break their hearts before leaving yet again, the same way she always did? Because, damn it, if that was the case, then Keith would strangle that woman to death. For too long she had hurt him and Veronica and he had been too in love with who she once was to stop it. But he was disillusioned of that final rose colored ideal, and he wouldn't let her hurt Marlie.

That little girl deserved better than that. Veronica had, too; Veronica had deserved the world on a silver platter, and all she had gotten were the crumbled remains of a life gone wrong on a battered, rusted, chipped plate instead. A part of Keith would never forgive himself for that. But Veronica had made a wonderful life for herself despite it all and had determined when she was only twenty years old that she would make a wonderful life for Marlie, too, no matter what it would cost her.

Keith would make sure that was exactly what happened.

How would he do it?

He would start by getting rid of Lianne. She was nothing but trouble. A tiny voice in his head told him that Marlie was really just like Veronica and that she would want to meet Lianne, would want to know her, and it was wrong of him to keep her from that. . . . But he ignored that little voice. He wouldn't let Marlie be hurt the way Veronica was, not even by her own mother. He wouldn't. He _wouldn't._

And with that in mind, Keith cleared his schedule for that day and began his search for Lianne Mars.

* * *

"I wondered when you'd come to see me," her aunt Mac greeted as Marlie pulled into the driveway. Marlie almost pulled right out again. Aunt Mac would probably just call Veronica, who would come and. . . . But no, Veronica was too busy pretending nothing was wrong to be bothered coming across town to fetch her.

Marlie's stomach was swirling with anger as she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. When she finally met her aunt Mac's gaze, it was to see the brunette staring at her with utmost sympathy and _understanding_. "Did you hate your parents for not telling you that they weren't your parents?" Marlie asked her, not beating around the bush.

Aunt Mac didn't hesitate. "Yes," she answered. "I could barely stand to look at them. And I even sought out my real parents. It was obvious my real mom wanted to know me as much as I did her." Marlie knew she had come to the right place. Aunt Mac gave her a small smile. "You want to come in and talk? Maybe have something to eat?" Marlie nodded gratefully and followed her aunt into the house.

Aunt Mac's house was _huge_, probably the biggest house Marlie had ever even seen. Her uncle Dick was just as wealthy as her dad, but the difference was that while her mom and dad liked being subtle about their wealth, Uncle Dick enjoyed flaunting it and Aunt Mac didn't seem to mind too much. It meant they lived in huge house full of expensive things, and if Marlie hadn't known her aunt and uncle her entire life, she would have felt awkward in the grandiose place.

"Where's Uncle Dick?" Marlie asked as she slipped into a couch in the living room and accepted the orange juice Aunt Mac handed her.

"On a business trip," Aunt Mac answered. "And Chris left for school, so we have the house to ourselves." She sat across from Marlie, a mug of coffee in her own hand. Aunt Mac hadn't simply married a wealthy man; rather, years before she married Uncle Dick when they were both passing thirty years old, she had made her own fortune online. She was probably the most intelligent person Marlie knew, and her entire life had always fascinated Marlie.

Except, she had never really pressed for details concerning . . . the switch; whenever the subject had come up in the past, Aunt Mac had always said something simple — _"I like my parents, even if they named me Cindy," _— and that was that. End of discussion.

"Can you tell me about . . . everything with your parents and stuff?" Marlie asked, unable to hold back.

"It was Veronica who figured it out," Aunt Mac answered. "But that shouldn't surprise you." She gave a small, affectionate grin. Marlie couldn't help but wonder bitterly to herself why so many amazing, cool people like Uncle Wallace and Aunt Mac so adored her mother.

"Remind me again why I tried to get away from my parents and ended up at with one of their best friends for the second time in a row?" Marlie asked sullenly.

"You're stupid?" Aunt Mac suggested.

"Thanks, Aunt Mac, that really puts me in a better mood," Marlie replied.

Aunt Mac gave a small, sympathetic smile. "She found out about the switch because I asked her to find out some information on my parents," she said, carrying on with her story, "and she was really hesitant to tell me. I think she realized that in some ways it would be easier for me not to know."

"But she did tell you?"

"She told me, yes, because I asked her to. It — it blew me away, Marlie, just as I'm sure the truth blew you away. You hear about this sort of thing on the news and in TV and stuff, but . . . you never imagine it could happen to you. I didn't know how to react. I just, I guess I had this overwhelming urge to meet my real parents because I had always felt so out of place in my family of blonde meataterians."

"Did you meet your real parents? What were they like? Did you get to talk to them?"

Aunt Mac smiled at Marlie's eagerness. "It turned out that I had been switched with a girl who went to Neptune named Madison Sinclair. I hated her almost as much as your mother did. She was spoiled rotten and was a complete and utter bitc. . . well, she was a bad person." Marlie smiled slightly at her aunt Mac.

"Anyway, I went to a party at her house and got to meet her little sister, who was really _my_ little sister, and I saw all these pictures of Madison in amazing places and . . . and I was angry at my parents. Because I should have had that great little sister and been to all those great places and grown up in a house that loved reading and traveling and . . . and I was so angry. Because it looked as if I could _belong_ in that house.

"I got to meet my birth mother and it was obvious just by the way she looked at me that she wanted to get to know me," Aunt Mac went on. "But . . . ."

"But what?"

"But I realized I didn't _need_ to know her. As much as I might resent my parents, they raised me. They loved me enough not to want give me up when it came out that Madison and I had been switched as babies. And my little brother . . . I mean, I know Jason and Ben can annoy you, but you still love them, don't you?" Marlie had to admit, however grudgingly, that she probably did. But she didn't say that aloud.

"And I realized that my mom and dad loved me so much they gave up ever getting to know their real daughter in order to have me. That's a lot of love, considering I never thought I was all that special to my parents."

"So what did you end up doing?"

"Nothing," Aunt Mac answered. "I did nothing. It wasn't worth it."

Marlie couldn't help but be disappointed. That wasn't what she wanted to hear. It just wasn't. She sure as hell didn't want to do _nothing_. She _couldn't_ do nothing; it would kill her.

"Don't get me wrong," Aunt Mac continued, "I still thought about it a lot. When I got in a fight with my parents or had a bad day, I would wonder what my life would be like if I had never been switched. But . . . at the end of my senior year, things really went _wrong_ for me, and my parents were there for me as they never had been before. They . . . they would have moved heaven and hell for me that summer after it all happened."

Marlie knew something terrible had happened to her aunt Mac on graduation night; she had heard plenty of allusions to it. Somehow Aunt Mac had been related to the boy who jumped off the roof, but that was about all Marlie knew.

"So what should I do?" asked Marlie. "Forget I learned the truth? Because that's kind of hard to do."

"No one's asking you to forget anything. I think they always planned on telling you –"

Marlie snorted meanly. "Are you sure about that?"

"I can't imagine telling your kid something like that is easy," Aunt Mac told her. "How do you say to a girl you raised and loved that she isn't your kid even though as far as you're concerned she is?"

Marlie didn't answer.

"Look, I know you're mad at your mom for lying to you, but . . . she did it _for_ you, so you didn't have to live with the fact that the woman who actually gave birth to you abandoned you. Veronica gave up normal life as a teenager, gave up parties and late nights out and _being young_ so that you could lead a carefree life. Can you really hate her for that?"

Marlie didn't meet her aunt's gaze. So the woman made a good point. But it didn't mean that Marlie didn't want to meet her real mother, didn't want to meet the woman who . . . because Lianne had come back, right? She had left Marlie, but she had come back, too, she had wanted to see Marlie and . . . that meant something, didn't it?

"If you want to meet Lianne," Aunt Mac said, as if reading her thoughts, "then that's your choice. And no one is going to try and stop you. But before you . . . just remember that Veronica is the one who stayed, Veronica is the one who raised you — and Logan, too, even though he wasn't even related to you — and if you seek out Lianne, you're going to hurt them . . . badly. You need to make sure it's worth it."

"That's a lot to expect of me," Marlie said. "I'm the kid here. Shouldn't they be thinking of ways not to hurt _me_?"

"Their way was not to tell you." Marlie could only stare at her. "I still remember what Veronica told me when it all came out," Aunt Mac went on. "'You had a choice in all of this,' she told me. I did. I chose to learn the truth and it was then my choice to seek our — or not seek out — my biological parents."

"And you chose not to," said Marlie.

"And now you have to choose," Aunt Mac replied, nodding.

"It's not that I . . .," Marlie began hesitantly, looking down at her orange juice. "It's not that I don't love my parents or anything." She looked back up at her aunt Mac. "I just . . . I feel so . . . confused. And I . . . I, oh, I don't know." She sighed.

The phone rang at that moment. Aunt Mac slowly rose to her feet and put down her mug. "It took me over a year to ask my parents about the switch," Aunt Mac told her. "I wish I had done it sooner. You should talk to your parents — your _real _parents — before you decide anything. You can go to Lianne if that's what you want, but there's a pretty good chance you'll hurt your parents if you do that. If that's okay with you, then okay. But just . . . make sure it's worth it, Marlie. Make sure. Your parents will always love you, but that doesn't mean you should ever make them doubt you love them back."

Marlie had no chance to respond before her aunt Mac was in the other room, answering the phone.

* * *

_Veronica had gotten rather good at the art of ignoring. She ignored that dinner at her father's house meant sitting at a table with Lianne. She ignored that her dad went to every doctor's appointment with her mother. She ignored that Lianne kept trying to talk to her whenever she could, even if Veronica would give clipped answers. She ignored the growing bulge beneath her mother's dress._

_She ignored it all._

_Sophomore year began and that was that. She was living with Mac like a normal teenager, she was single and she was focused on school. Her infamy from the sex tape had faded. It was college and people got over things like that quickly; there were, after all, new scandals to make everyone gasp. She got to know new professors; she made friends with strangely normal girls who didn't have sordid histories, violent ex-boyfriends or mothers who could win the world's worst mother award._

_But everyday, in the back of her mind, was her mother, was desperate blue eyes so terribly similar to her own and a round stomach that cried out for pity and sympathy and forgiveness, and it was killing Veronica. She just didn't _understand_ her mother and how the woman could be so _weak._ She was nothing like Veronica, and weren't parents and their children supposed to be alike?_

_But that wasn't necessarily true. After all, Logan was nothing like his father._

_Logan._

_She didn't talk to him for months after that day at the Grand. She would see him from afar with Dick or walking out of class, but she never approached him. A part of her was ashamed of how she had broken down in front of him. But the larger part of her knew it was simply impossible for Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars to be friends._

_It was just impossible._

_Because even though they couldn't possibly to be together, every time one saw the other with a member of the opposite sex things went horribly awry. And then there were familiar gestures that had become so automatic when they were together it seemed wrong not to do them now, but it _was_ wrong, because, for example, kissing your friend's neck was inappropriate on multiple levels._

_It was simply easier to avoid him, and she was pretty sure he realized that, too, because Hearst wasn't that big of a school and if they hadn't both been making the effort of avoidance, they surely would have run into one another by now._

_"Hi, honey," Lianne said hesitantly as Veronica entered Keith's apartment, dropping the groceries she had gotten for dinner on the counter. Veronica didn't reply. "How was your day?" Lianne questioned. Veronica began putting food into the fridge, steadfastly ignoring her mother, as per usual._

_"How's Logan?" Lianne asked slowly, hopefully. "Aren't you two . . . ?"_

_Veronica finally responded. "None of you business." How did her mother even know about Logan? And how dare she presume to have the _right_ to know about Logan?_

_There was a brief silence in which Veronica got out a pan to begin boiling water for the spaghetti. She was painfully aware of Lianne's presence, but that was the cost of agreeing to her begging father to stop by for dinner that night, and she would put up with it as she always did. She loved her dad too much; it was unnatural, really, the sacrifices she made for him._

_"Are you ever going to talk to me, Veronica?" Lianne asked suddenly._

_"Sure," Veronica answered. "When I forgive you then I'll talk to you."_

_"And . . . and when will you forgive me?" Lianne asked, her voice timid._

_"When all four of the Beatles get back together," Veronica answered, wishing she hadn't bothered to start speaking to Lianne at all. She decided not to say another word as she made dinner; her dad would be home soon and he could handle the ex-wife he had invited into his home._

_Again there was a stretch of silence. But once more Lianne broke it, her voice thick with desperation. "What can I do, Veronica? Please, just tell me what I can do. I'm really trying here."_

_Veronica couldn't help herself. "How are you trying, again?" Veronica asked her angrily. "You run away without a word to Dad or me. Months later I finally find you in a _bar_ and I use all the money I've saved for college to make you better and bring you home and you waste it all. Then you leave again, stealing thousands of dollars from us and —"_

_"It's not that simple!" Lianne protested. "I was clean when I came home. I hadn't wasted your money! But it was hard, Veronica! There was no place in this house for me anymore. Your father had moved on; he was in love with someone else, even if he tried to deny it! And you . . . you had turned into a person I didn't recognize anymore, and it just wasn't the same!"_

_"Did you expect it to be?" Veronica snarled. "Did you really think you could abandon us for an entire year and everything would be picture perfect when you returned? My life was HELL that year, Mom. I could have used you! Even if it was only the fact that you stayed and stood by us! That would have been enough." She paused, breathing heavily, before adding bitterly, "But it was too much for you."_

_"I'm not as strong as you and your father!" cried Lianne. "You can't hate me for that, you can't. Not everyone can face the world the way you can. I'm sorry I can't, Veronica, I really am, but I can't be any more than who I am!"_

_"Yes, you can," Veronica replied. "People can change. They can become tougher. I did. I was a teenager, my best friend was murdered and my entire school hated me . . . but I got tougher. I learned to deal with it. And do you know why I did? Because I loved Dad enough not to abandon him. You should have loved us enough to do the same."_

_Lianne was crying now, was shaking her head and crying, but she said nothing more than a mumbled, "I'm sorry, Veronica, I really am. . . ." Veronica didn't reply. She turned away from her mother and put her entire attention into stirring the sauce. _

_Time seemed to pass slowly, and with each passing minute Veronica grew more and more annoyed with her father. How could he leave her here with her mother? It was past six; he should be home. Where was he?_

_"I'm going to get a job as soon as the baby's born," Lianne told her. "I'm not going to keep living off your father. I used to be a bank teller, you know. I could probably get a job doing that."_

_Veronica didn't care. She didn't want to hear this._

_"Veronica?"_

_"Good for you. Is there any chance you could do that sooner than later so I don't have to see you every time I want to see my dad?" Lianne said nothing at first in response to Veronica's bitter reply._

_But finally, her voice softer than it had been in a long time, Lianne told her, "I'm going to do right by this baby, Veronica. I really am. I'm never going to hurt her; I'm never going to abandon her." The doctors had told them the baby was a girl. That fact made Veronica even angrier for reasons she couldn't fathom._

_"I wouldn't tell the kid that," Veronica said. "That would just be setting the baby up for disappointment." And even as the door finally opened and Keith stepped into the apartment, Veronica met eyes with Lianne for the first time and told her mother, "That baby deserves better than you."_

_"Hey hon!" Keith greeted Veronica, smiling brightly at the sight of her._

_"I've started dinner, Dad, but you'll have to finish it," Veronica replied, "I have to go."_

_Keith frowned. "I thought you were going to stay for dinner. . . ."_

_"I have a paper," Veronica replied tightly. She gave him the smallest of smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek and passing him by. She didn't look him right in the face. She couldn't handle the sad, disappointed expression she was sure was there. And she certainly didn't glance at Lianne as she left the apartment._

_But she couldn't stop herself from hearing her mother as the older woman whispered, her voice broken, "I know she deserves better."_

* * *

There were a thousand pictures of her as a baby, a toddler, a little kid. Plenty of them were framed and scattered across her house and her grandpa's house, but plenty more were in box after box, all stacked in her parents' bedroom closet.

Veronica had been on the phone that Aunt Mac had answered, as Marlie had known she would be. But just as she hadn't the night before, her mother did not demand Marlie come home or go to school or do anything at all. Aunt Mac told Marlie she'd be working from home that day and Marlie was welcome to spend the day there.

But as soon as her aunt Mac settled down in her study, Marlie left. And she found herself back at her house, one that was empty now that everyone was gone at school or work, and in her parents' bedroom, looking through the boxes in the closet. She wasn't sure what she was searching for, but she had nothing better to do.

It wasn't as if she didn't fit into her family. She would have never imagined she wasn't her parents' child. She was a carbon copy of her mother as far as looks went; she had the same explosive temper both her parents possessed. She had always felt herself a part of the family; she didn't feel the way Aunt Mac had described feeling about her parents.

But she couldn't stop herself from feeling suddenly as if her whole life had been a lie. For so long she had believed that her mother hadn't wanted a child, hadn't wanted _her,_ but had learned to love her anyway because she _was_ her kid. But now she wasn't. Did that suddenly mean that all those times Veronica got angry at her, yelled at her or at her father, telling him when she didn't think Marlie could hear that she never should have become a mother . . . did that mean all those times Veronica really, truly, disliked her?

That couldn't be possible, not really; Marlie knew her mother loved her, she _knew_ it . . . but what if Veronica resented her? What if Veronica lay awake at night wondering what her life would have been like if Lianne had never left Marlie with her?

Sitting there thinking about it, Marlie felt her anger towards her mother rise. _She_ hadn't forced her mother to take care of her or claim her as her own. That had been Veronica's choice. Why should Marlie suffer for it? And, really, was it so wrong to want to know her real mother? Among all the pictures of a baby Marlie, pictures that also held her grandparents, Veronica, Logan, Uncle Wallace, and Aunt Mac, there wasn't a single picture of Lianne. Why was that?

Marlie tried to imagine what Lianne must have been thinking when she had left Marlie behind. Had she wanted to leave her? How long after she had been born did her mother leave? Was her mother afraid? Had she regretted it and tried to come back and Veronica hadn't let her? Had Veronica made her leave in the first place?

There was no way to know. After all, how could she understand what Lianne was thinking and feeling if she didn't even know the woman? It wasn't wrong, then, to _want_ to know her real mother. It was her right, just as she had told Lianne before the woman drove away.

It took Marlie a few minutes to formulate her plan. According to the clock on her mother's bedside table, it was eleven thirty-seven in the morning. Hopefully Grandpa Keith wouldn't be at the office; hopefully he would be out working on a case. . . . She called the office. It went to the machine. Praying that no one would show up at Mars Investigations between the call and her arrival, Marlie drove to the small building.

Luck was with her: no one was there.

She started up the computer, and her mind flashed back to the times she had gone into the office with her mother when Veronica was helping Keith out on a Saturday. She could remember sitting in Veronica's lap, comfortable and carefree, believing herself to be the happiest girl alive. Once upon a time she had thought the world began and ended with Veronica Echolls, that perfect woman who tucked her bed into night with twenty-five kisses and woke her up the next morning with eggs and bacon that smiled at her.

But things changed.

As she grew older, though, she still spent time with her mom at Mars Investigations, and her mother would tell her about the search sites, about the life of an F.B.I. agent and of a P.I. Of course, Veronica would never tell her very _much_, but Marlie had never _cared_ very much. She wasn't interested in saving the world and especially not in taking pictures of cheating spouses. Still, Marlie knew enough to know how to root out a little information.

She searched for Lianne Mars and found exactly what she wanted.

_Spouse:Keith Mars. Born 1/15/1960. Divorced._

_Children: Veronica Mars Echolls. Born 8/17/1987. Married 10/3/2010 to Logan Echolls._

_Marlene Mars Echolls. Born 11/27/2007. Adopted 5/31/2008 by Veronica Mars Echolls. Adopted 10/1/2010 by Logan Echolls. _

Right there, for anyone to find, for herself to have found years ago, was proof that she did not really belong to the parents who had raised her. She was the child of Lianne Mars. There was more information; more dates. There were lists of parking tickets, alcohol violations, and other public records; there was even a mention of her time spent in a rehabilitation clinic. That was the only mention of Marlene, though.

_Marlene Echolls. Born 11/27/2007. Adopted 5/31/2008 by Veronica Mars Echolls. Adopted 10/1/2010 by Logan Echolls._

But that wasn't what she needed. What she needed was an address, a _current _address. And that was there, too. In plain English there was a location of her mother. Marlie grabbed a pink sticky note from the desk and copied it down. If Veronica wasn't going to let her meet her mother, then Marlie would take it out of her mother's hands and put it into her _other_ mother's grasp.

Marlie wasn't as brave as she imagined herself to be, however. She drove the hour ride all the way out to Lianne's house and then couldn't even make herself step out of the car. She knew it was the right house. The truck was parked right there in the driveway. Marlie stayed for nearly half an hour, her mind buzzing, before starting the drive back home.

Her aunt Mac let her back into the house without protest. "Another hour and I would have sounded the police," Aunt Mac said. Marlie was grateful that her aunt Mac wasn't the sort to freak out the moment she went missing. She made herself a sandwich and ate in silence while Aunt Mac worked on the computer, a laptop she'd brought into the kitchen as if to keep an eye on Marlie.

She went home that night. Maybe her parents would be ready to talk.

Dinner was awkward. Jason and Ben knew something was wrong, but no one was offering any explanations. Veronica finally took them aside while Marlie sat in silence with her father, and she must have explained it to them. Marlie didn't care. She had bigger fish to fry. She wanted to ask her dad what it had been like to become her father, why he had done it, what had he felt towards her. . . .

She didn't say a word, though.

When Veronica came back into the room and began clearing the dishes, Jason and Ben weren't with her. Marlie watched her for a moment. Her mother was five months pregnant now. The baby was a girl. In four months, Veronica would have her own daughter, a _real _daughter.

"What did you do today?" her father finally asked, his eyes burning into her.

"Stayed with Aunt Mac," she answered quietly.

"What did you two talk about?" asked Veronica, her back turned to Marlie as she washed dishes in the sink. Logan got up and began helping her. Marlie felt herself ignored once more. This wasn't how it was supposed to work.

"Do you really care?" she snarled. Veronica's back stiffened.

Logan turned to her. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

"I want to know my mother."

"She's an alcoholic who abandoned you," Veronica said, still not facing Marlie. "What more is there?"

"That's not being fair to her or me," Marlie replied. "I deserve to know the woman who gave birth to me. I deserve it. If you were in my place, you'd demand the same thing, Mom. You know it. You _know_ it."

Logan put a hand on Veronica's shoulder as if to calm the storm. He turned to her again. "Do you want to know what happened? How it happened?" His voice was calm, his eyes bright.

"Yes," she said, "of course."

He glanced at his wife. "Veronica, do you want to —?"

"What's the story?" Veronica said, still facing away from Marlie. "She came, she had a baby, she left, and I raised that baby. That's it. That's the story."

"Why?" Marlie asked.

"Why what?" Veronica asked.

Marlie stood. "Why did you raise me? Why didn't Grandpa Keith? Or why didn't you give me up for adoption? Why did _you_ raise me?" She knew exactly what she wanted her mother to say in answer the moment the questions left her lips: _I raised you because I _wanted_ to raise you, Marlie. I raised you because I _loved _you, Marlie._

"Your grandpa wasn't considered a good candidate for raising a kid by the California government and since he wasn't a blood relative, there was nothing he could do to change their minds," Veronica answered, scrubbing furiously at a dinner plate as she spoke into the sink. "And we weren't going to give you up for adoption; that would have been wrong. So I raised you. What other choice was there?"

_What other choice was there?_ The words echoed in Marlie's head.

"Marlie," her father began, stepping towards her with a look of understanding on his face, as if he knew that Veronica had said the wrong thing, "what you have to understand is that —"

"I want to meet Lianne. I want a chance to know her."

Her father sighed. "Marlie," he said, the word coming out sounding so very _tired._

"No. You can't talk me out of this. I want to meet her. It's my right."

"Fine," Veronica snapped abruptly, a dish clanking to the bottom of the sink as she spoke. She grabbed a dishtowel and dried her hands before pulling open the kitchen desk drawers and beginning to search through them.

"Veronica . . .," said Logan hesitantly.

"Damn it!" Veronica exclaimed. She turned to Logan, demanding, "Hand me the phone."

"Veronica, I think —"

"Hand me the damned phone, Logan," Veronica said, her face pinched. Marlie didn't know what was going on, but it seemed at last she had gotten an actual emotional reaction out of her mother, and that was _something_ at least. Her father did as her mother requested and a moment later Veronica had called the operator.

"I need the number for a Lianne Mars," Veronica said. She was silent for a moment, listening to something, before replying, "Yeah, yeah, that's her." She grabbed a piece of paper then and wrote down a number. She clicked off the phone and shoved both it and the scrap of paper at Marlie.

"You want to talk to her," she said. "There you go. There's the phone and her number." And with that she stormed from the room. Marlie was a little surprised. Her mother wasn't usually the sort to walk out in the middle of a fight, if that's what they'd been having. Marlie looked at the phone number, wondering if she could call her mother when she hadn't been able to see her even after driving all the way out there.

"Take it from someone who's mom might have loved him but who didn't care enough to stick around," her father said suddenly, drawing her attention away from the phone. "It's only worth so much pain." She wasn't sure what that was supposed to be mean, but she said nothing as he leaned down towards her and pressed a lingering kiss to her head. "Don't forget, though," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear, "I'm always gonna be your dad, kid. No matter what."

He left the room after that, probably to talk to her mother.

* * *

Alicia hated Lianne Mars with every fiber of her being. It wasn't really right of her, she knew, and she tried to think charitably of the woman, to think of all that she herself had in comparison to what little Lianne had, but still the hatred remained.

Usually it was easy to forget about Lianne, about the times she had come and torn apart the relationships Alicia and Keith would build. She had been married to Keith for years and she loved him so much she couldn't imagine what her life would have become if they had never gotten back together that summer. She adored both her sons, her greatest sources of pride, and she even got along with her daughter-in-law Penny. But the idea of life without Keith. . . .

Not to mention the fact that she thought of Veronica as her own daughter.

That tiny girl was a force to be reckoned with and at times it seemed as if she were completely beyond Alicia's understanding. But most of the time, it wasn't hard at all for Alicia to understand Veronica. After all, Alicia too had felt herself alone in the world before, and she could admire how strong Veronica was. She liked being a kind of mother to the small blonde, and she considered Veronica's children — Marlie included — her grandchildren as much as she did Wallace's two daughters.

It was easy, really, to forget that Lianne was ever a part of the mix. But she was. And now she was back. Was she here for good? Alicia had faith that her relationship with Keith wouldn't suffer at all from this; the love between them had only grown over the years. But she was worried about Logan, Veronica, and Marlene. They were her family. And no matter what at least one of them, maybe even Keith, too, was going to be hurt by whatever happened next.

It had been two weeks since she and Keith had come home from an amazing date of dinner and dancing to find a shell-shocked and pale Veronica explaining that Lianne had finally come back and Marlie knew everything. It seemed as if things had returned to a kind of tense normalcy since then.

Marlie was back in school and was no longer running away at any moment. No one had heard from Lianne since that first night, and when the Echolls had come for dinner three days ago, no one in the family had even come close to mentioning her name. So what did that all mean? Were they all going to pretend it didn't happen?

Alicia recognized it wasn't that simple. Sometime, sooner or later, things would come to a head. Marlene might not be Veronica's daughter, but they were more alike than either realized. Marlie wouldn't be able to go long without something happening. And Alicia knew that Lianne would be involved in whatever happened. They weren't going to get rid of her easily.

Alicia knew Keith had gone to talk to Lianne. He had said he was going to talk to his ex-wife to ask her intentions. He hadn't said much afterwards, though. He simply told her, his voice tired, that Lianne claimed she wouldn't invade their lives again and she knew it was a mistake to do it that one night.

"Do you believe her?" Alicia had asked.

"All I believe," Keith had replied, sighing, "is that I need a beer and a night of baseball."

It was only a matter of time.

And Alicia was right.

She got the news via Keith via Logan: Marlene had called Lianne, asking to meet her.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter didn't include the most interesting flashback, in my opinion, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. I know Marlie is and has been acting rather bratty, but it'll get better -- I promise! The dates of birth I chose for Keith, Veronica, and Logan were my best guess according to the information on Mars Investigations net; if anyone knows any better, please tell me! The next chapter should be posted soon. Thanks to all who have reviewed so far; I really appreciate it!_


	4. Chapter 4

Marlie met her at a diner.

It seemed like a cliche, but what was so wrong with that?

It had taken her two weeks to gather the guts to call her mother. It wasn't that she was afraid calling her biological mother was a mistake; she knew she had to do it. She had to have at least a single conversation with Lianne. But it wasn't easy making contact.

The conversation had been brief. "Hello?" Lianne had asked. Marlie had been struck silent for a moment. "Hello?" Lianne repeated. "Is anyone there?"

"It's Marlie," Marlie had finally breathed. "Marlene, I mean. Your daughter."

There had been a brief pause, then, and Marlie had been sure her mother could hear her heart racing over the phone. "Hi, Marlene," Lianne had greeted. "I . . . I'm glad you called."

The conversation had been full of a breathless pauses and slow, timid words, but before long Lianne had asked Marlie if she would like to meet her for lunch. Marlie had agreed. She hadn't told her parents. She had called Lianne while at school and she met her on a Saturday when her parents thought she was at her friend Kim's house.

The diner was one on the outskirts of town that was well-known but not often frequented because of its "cheap" feel. Still, Marlie had always sort of like it, and it seemed Lianne didn't mind a "cheap" venue. Lianne had been waiting in a booth when Marlie arrived, and the older woman had been nervously flattening her hair when Marlie had approached her.

"Hi," Marlie said timidly.

"Oh! Hi!" Lianne let out a nervous chuckle. "There you are." She smiled. There was silence. "Do you . . . do you want to have a seat?"

"Yeah, ah, yeah, of course," Marlie answered, blushing slightly as she slid into the booth. There was already a glass of coke in front of Lianne. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked, not able to come up with much more to say.

Lianne shook her head quickly. "Not at all. I got here a little early because I was so . . . excited to see you." Marlie felt a little prickle of warmth at those words. But this woman _had_ left her; she wasn't naive enough to think there was a good excuse for that. She was back, though, she had come back, and she had wanted to know Marlie. . . .

The lunch was awkward at first as they asked one another stupid little questions like, "What do you like to do?" and ate their greasy hamburgers. Eventually a soft lull came as they finished up, and Marlie felt she couldn't go any longer without saying anything.

"Why did you come back now?" she asked.

Lianne didn't answer right away. "I made a mistake," she said slowly. "I never should have left you. But I was scared and lonely when you were born, and I knew I couldn't be a good mother to you. At least, I thought I couldn't at the time. So I left. There is nothing in the world I regret more than that, Marlene. I promise you."

Marlie nodded. "So you're back . . . ?"

"To make it up to you. I want to get to know you, Marlene. I want to be a part of your life. I know it's a lot to ask, and I know I don't deserve it. I realize I long ago lost any chance of being part of Veronica's life. But I still want to be a part of yours. If there was any way you could ever forgive me. . . ."

"I could try," Marlie answered softly. Nervously, Lianne reached forward and grasped Marlie's hand in her own. Her pale hand was soft and warm and not nearly as bony as Veronica's. Marlie stared at their two hands.

"That's all I ask."

It took her a moment to screw up her courage, but finally she asked softly, nervously, "What about my father? My — my biological father, I mean?" Lianne stiffened slightly at the question. "My mom — Veronica — says that she has no idea who he is. That you never told her. But surely you have to know . . . right?"

Lianne glanced away, and her voice came out as a whisper when she said, "I know who he is." She looked back at Marlie. "Of course I know who he is. I . . . I dated him before I married Keith and then after Keith and I split up, I ended up . . . but he's not a good man, Marlie. I left him before you were born and went to stay with Keith and Veronica. You deserved better than him. You deserve a father like — like Logan." She gave a brave smile.

Marlie nodded. She supposed it was the best for which she could hope. Besides, there was something in Lianne's voice when she spoke, a gleam in her eyes, an indication that she was almost _scared_. Marlie didn't understand, but she'd get the full story eventually.

She left a few minutes later. When she arrived home, it was to discover that her parents had known where she really was. Of course they had. Her dad asked her how lunch was and what she and Lianne had talked about. Marlie told him it was none of his business. Her mother had been watching TV when Marlie entered the room, and she didn't let her eyes travel a centimeter from the screen the entire time.

She decided she would go see Lianne again for lunch.

* * *

_The baby was born at three in the morning after hours and hours of labor. Lianne wasn't too old, but she was certainly past the safest age for giving birth, and there had been some concern. The baby had been born without too much trouble, however, and in good health._

_Veronica went to the hospital with Keith. She couldn't not. She hadn't gone into to see Lianne yet, but she had seen the baby, seen her little sister. She was starting at her right at that moment. Veronica had never had much experience with babies. And now she was staring at the tiny seven pounds and thirteen ounces of her own flesh and blood, so small and pink._

_Her sister lay among rows of other babies, but Veronica had no time for any of them. She stared at her sister intently. What would life be like for that innocent little girl? How would it be to have only Lianne for family? Veronica was her family, too, but if Veronica became a part of her life then she would have to become a part of Lianne's life, and Veronica wasn't sure she could handle that._

_"Would you like to hold her?" a nurse asked. Why did they always ask that?_

_"She's my sister," Veronica said, not sure why. "My half-sister." The nurse nodded kindly._

_"You can hold her if you want," the older woman told her softly. Veronica didn't reply. "Do you want to?" _

_Slowly, Veronica nodded. "Sure," she murmured. She watched as the nurse went in and picked up her sister, who squirmed slightly, and the next thing Veronica knew, she was holding the small baby. The small tag on the little foot read "Mars."_

_"Are you a Mars?" Veronica whispered to the small baby. Big blue eyes looked up at her. Her sister had her eyes. She stared down at the baby, silent. _

_"She looks like you," the nurse said, and when Veronica glanced at her, the woman was smiling._

_"Yeah," Veronica said absentmindedly. The baby's tiny eyelids closed. Veronica impulsively hugged her closer. Her revere was broken by the beep of her watch. Unable to glance at her wrist with a baby in her arms, she glanced at the clock on the hospital wall._

_It was exactly seven in the morning. Veronica started to look back down at her sister only for her eyes to catch on Lianne, standing at the end of the hall watching Veronica. Lianne seemed startled when Veronica caught her eyes, but after a moment the older woman came towards her._

_"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Lianne asked._

_"She's a baby. She looks like a baby," Veronica answered. She gazed down at her small sister. Weren't babies supposed to cry more? Maybe her sister wasn't big on crying. That was probably a good thing._

_"She looks a lot like you," Lianne told her. "Just like you, really. I've named her Marlene. I haven't thought of a middle name, though. You — you can pick one, if you want." Veronica didn't say anything._

_"Who's her father, Lianne?" Veronica finally asked. "You have to know." She hadn't brought the question up at all in the past months, but she had to know now. She had to._

_"It doesn't matter," Lianne whispered. "He isn't going to be a part of her life." There was a small pause. "Are you going to be a part of her life?" Lianne asked. Veronica didn't answer her. "I guess that's a no," Lianne whispered._

"_My dad looked into it, you know," Veronica told her, ignoring the question entirely._

"_Into what?" Lianne frowned._

"_Into the father," answered Veronica, her voice steely. But she didn't look at Lianne. She refused. "He won't tell me anything, though. I know he knows something but —"_

_"Veronica?" _

_Both Veronica and Lianne looked up at the sound of her name, and Veronica wasn't sure what to feel when she saw Logan coming towards them. What was he doing here at seven in the morning, anyway?_

_"Is that . . . ?"_

_"My sister," Veronica answered him. "She came a few hours ago."_

_"Oh," Logan said softly. "She's small." _

_"Babies generally are." His eyes flittered briefly to Lianne, standing and watching their exchange in silence, but he said nothing to her._

_"She's, ah, cute, I guess, too," he offered. Veronica couldn't help but smile at him. _

_"How have you been?" she asked._

_He shrugged. "Dick drank a little too much last night. Had to have his stomach pumped. That's what I'm doing here. He's the one constant in my life and he's getting his stomach pumped. Great, right?" Logan shook his head sadly. Veronica felt a twinge in her stomach._

_"He's not the one constant. I'm in your life, too."_

_Logan didn't say anything, but when he glanced at the ground, Veronica saw the slightest curve of a smile in his face. She wondered if she would ever really get over Logan. Something about him brought out the worst in her, brought out the nastiness and bitterness, but at the same time, there were times with him when she was just so happy and. . . ._

_"I'm going to get some sleep," Lianne murmured._

_Veronica only nodded in reply, looking back down at her sister. She really was small. It was hard to imagine her growing up and into her own person. What would she be like? Would she be anything like Veronica? Would she like the same things as Veronica?_

_"Hey, are you okay?" Logan asked, his voice especially soft._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I mean with your mom and everything. A lot's been going on," he said. Veronica looked up at him and, oh so automatically, he reached out and brushed his knuckles affectionately across the side of her face._

_"I'm dealing with it," she sighed._

_"You always do."_

_They talked about mundane things, then, about their classes and what Wallace had done in Africa and how her internship with the F.B.I. had been and the latest show Trina had just been killed off of. All the while Veronica held the small baby in her arms, letting the little girl fall asleep. _

_Eventually she gave the child back to the nurse and let Logan talk her into getting a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. The coffee was terrible. The company wasn't so bad, though. She really had missed him. It was impossible not to. He had been such a big part of her life for so long, and he certainly had a vivid personality._

_It was nearing eleven in the morning when her father found them. She was slightly disappointed: who knew when she and Logan would get a chance to talk again? All disappointment disappeared, however, on sight of the panicked look her father possessed._

_"What's wrong?" she immediately asked._

_"Have you seen your mom?" Keith asked._

_"I saw her a few hours ago . . . why?"_

_"Because she left. She checked out of the hospital."_

"_Already?" asked Veronica, a small alarm going off in her head._

_"Did she go back to your house?" Logan asked._

_"Alicia was just leaving her house to go to work. I had her stop by the house. She said no one's there, but Lianne's things are gone." Veronica couldn't believe it. Had her mom really just _left . . . _again?_

_"And the baby?" Veronica asked, not exactly sure what she wanted to hear._

_Keith was silent for a moment and Veronica thought she knew exactly what he was going to say. Lianne had left the baby behind. But Veronica was wrong._

"_The baby's gone, too."_

* * *

She was reading her English assignment when her mom walked into the room. "I've got your laundry," she announced.

"Put in on my dresser," Marlie replied, not taking her eyes off of her book. She waited for her mom to leave. It didn't happen.

"Do I look like your personal slave?" asked Veronica.

"Dad's offered to hire a maid," Marlie replied. A moment later her mom dumped all of the clothing on top of Marlie's book, forcing Marlie to glare at her.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," Veronica told her.

"Thank you," Marlie said, gritting her teeth. Her mom was officially 'off-duty' from the FBI and had been told, to her great annoyance, that she could not return to work until the baby was born. As far as Marlie could tell, her mother was doing her best to blow off steam by spending her free time torturing Marlie.

She brushed aside the clothing and focused on her book again. Her mom didn't move an inch. Slowly, realizing her mother would not stand to be ignored, Marlie looked up. "Is there something you want?" she asked.

"How was school today?" Veronica asked.

"Fine," Marlie answered. Did her mom want to make peace? Well, it wasn't that easy.

"Did your biology test go well? You have one today, didn't you?"

"It's tomorrow."

Veronica nodded. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Sighing, Veronica turned to leave. Marlie looked back at her book. _There_. That served her mother right. But a moment later Veronica was facing her again. "I found something in the attic," Veronica told her.

"That's nice," Marlie replied, focusing her eyes on page 227 and not letting them wander.

"It's a dress. Your dress . . . from when you were little, only two and a half, actually." Marlie didn't say anything, but Veronica forged on ahead. "Alicia made it for you. You wore it to a Hearst party."

Marlie frowned and looked at her mother, confused. "I went to a Hearst party when I was two and a half years old?"

Veronica smiled. "You didn't stay long. It was one of the last parties of my senior year. Between you and classes, I hadn't been to any parties for a long, long time. Your aunt Mac insisted I go to this one. But Logan was visiting your aunt Trina in LA after her car accident and your grandpa was chasing a bail jumper. There was no one to babysit."

"So you just took me to a college party?" Marlie asked in disbelief.

"We didn't really have to, actually; Alicia probably would have watched you," Veronica admitted. "But once we got the idea into our heads . . . Alicia had just made you the dress a few days ago and. . . . We did our hair and make-up and I even curled your hair and . . . and the three of us went to a party. People stared at you like nobodies business."

"Wow," Marlie said. Her mom had taken a baby to a college party. No. That wasn't right. Some strange woman had taken a baby to a college party. Not Veronica Echolls. Had Veronica Echolls met the strange woman? "That's kind of crazy, you know."

"Your dad said the same thing when he got home. 'Did you buy her a beer, too?' he asked. But I . . . I had fun. It was probably more fun getting ready and then seeing everybody's expression when Mac and I walked into a party with a baby in between us than anything else, but. . . ."

Marlie imagined the scene and found herself smiling.

"And I was . . .," Veronica went on, slightly hesitant, "I mean, I didn't mind people staring because I was . . . proud of you."

"I was two and a half years old," Marlie said softly.

"I've always been proud of you," Veronica replied, her voice just as soft. She had come closer during their conversation and she reached out now, tucking a lock of Marlie's hair behind her ear. "You're so smart and tough and . . . and I do love you, you know.

"You know that, don't you? That I love you?"

"I know," Marlie answered, smiling at her mom. "I love you, too."

Veronica gave a warm smile then, and she looked at Marlie with the very same gleam in her eyes as when Marlie had been in her second grade school play and Veronica had assured her afterward that Marlie, dressed as asparagus with cheese on top, had been the best part of the play.

"I'm washing the dress now," she said. "I'll show it to you later, if you want."

Marlie nodded and, still smiling, her mother left the room.

It didn't occur to Marlie until after her mother was gone that that while her mother was being so open Marlie should have asked about Lianne, should have tried to get more information. She shouldn't have so easily folded under her mother's affection.

But for the first time in weeks, Lianne hadn't been on her mind.

At dinner that night, Marlie said she wouldn't be at dinner the next night because she was going to dinner with Lianne. She was trying to be honest. The last two times she had met with Lianne, she had done so without telling her parents; (though she was sure they knew nonetheless). Maybe she could reach an understanding with her parents and. . . .

"I assume we'll be footing the bill?" her mother asked.

Her father changed the subject, asking Jason about basketball practice.

And her mom didn't say another word to Marlie for the rest of the meal.

* * *

It turned out that Lianne had named Marlie after her grandmother, Marlene Reynolds. Lianne loved music, but she couldn't sing or dance to save her life, or at least, she said she couldn't. She loved the beach and hated the cold. She always called Marlie by her full name. It was weird at first; before then, Marlie had only ever been called Marlene when she was being yelled at. She had gotten used to it, though.

And she thought she was really getting to know Lianne. It seemed that was an unforgivable transgression in Veronica's eyes, and it was as if that conversation with her mother had never taken place. But her parents couldn't expect Marlie to ignore Lianne; she liked the older woman, and more and more often, as she ate silent dinners with her parents, avoided her mother's conversation like the plague and steadfastly ignored her father's burning stares, she wondered what her life would have been like if Lianne had never left.

The fifth time she was to spend time with Lianne it was for ice cream after school. Her car in the shop for an annual check-up, Marlie had gotten a ride that day from her dad, and she called Lianne to tell her that she would need to be picked up. It had been strange, driving along in Lianne's old truck, but it had been kind of nice, too. She had gotten chocolate ice cream.

Everything went wrong when Lianne dropped her off at home.

Marlie didn't know why she did it, but she couldn't help herself. "Do you want to come in for a minute?" she offered. Lianne was taken aback.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. . . ."

"Why not?" Marlie asked, knowing exactly what Lianne would say.

"Your mother. . . ."

"I don't care what my mother wants or doesn't want," Marlie replied rebelliously. "It's my house, too. And I'm inviting you in." Lianne was still hesitant, but with a little prodding she finally agreed. The house was cool and silent when they entered.

"I guess no one's home," Lianne observed. Marlie shrugged.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked.

Before Lianne could answer, the sound of the front door opening could be heard and loud voices floated into the room. "Anybody home?" Logan called out.

"Be down in a second!" Veronica yelled from upstairs.

"I guess she is home," Lianne whispered, her eyes wide and almost _fearful._

"It doesn't matter," Marlie assured.

Ben raced into the room right after that. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of them. "Hi," he said, his big eyes taking in the sight of an older woman he'd never met standing in the kitchen with his big sister.

"This is my little brother Ben," Marlie introduced. It was always strange referring to her brothers or father or mother as such in front of Lianne. And she had so far entirely avoided the issue of what to call Lianne. "Ben, this is Lianne."

"Hi Ben," Lianne greeted softly.

"Hi," Ben repeated. Logan appeared in the kitchen then.

"I thought you were dying of thirst," Logan said, flipping through the mail and not noticing who else was in the room besides Ben.

"He got side-tracked," Marlie said. Logan looked up from the mail.

"I didn't know you were here; you said you were going over to Amy's house. . . ." His voice wasn't accusatory but it faded away when he caught sight of Lianne. Ben glanced back and forth between his father and Lianne, obviously confused again. Marlie felt a little bad for him; she hadn't been the best big sister lately, and the poor kid was only five years old.

"Hi Logan," Lianne breathed.

Logan didn't reply and Lianne turned slightly pink under his stare.

"I just invited Lianne in for a drink, Dad," Marlie said.

"I see," Logan answered, his voice curt. Marlie felt her stomach drop. Of course she shouldn't expect any better reception for Lianne from her father than from her mother. After all, the man had married Veronica, hadn't he? That had to mean he wasn't the best of people. But was it so wrong of her to wish that the father she so loved but who she hadn't been able to talk with properly for weeks would get along with her mom, her _real_ mom, who she was just starting to get to know?

Right on cue, Veronica entered the room. "How was school?" she asked Ben kindly. Ben's eyes lit up at the question, but before he could answer, Lianne let out a gasp.

"You're pregnant!" she said, her eyes staring at Veronica's stomach, which looked particularly large compared to how tiny Veronica was.

"You're in my house," Veronica replied, her eyes flashing. "What are you doing here?" Lianne took a step back, as though afraid Veronica would attack her.

"I invited her here!" Marlie immediately defended. "It's my house, too, and I have every right to invite her here!"

"You live here, kid, but I'm the one paying for this house, not you," Veronica told her.

"Veronica, I didn't mean to cause any trouble," Lianne began.

"All you _do_ is cause trouble, Lianne," Veronica snapped. Lianne winced at the sound of her name coming so harshly out of Veronica's mouth, and fury flared up within Marlie.

"Don't talk to her that way!" she yelled.

"I think it's time for you to go upstairs, Ben," Logan interrupted.

"But Daddy. . . ."

Logan didn't listen to his small protests; he only scooped him up and disappeared out of the room with him. Veronica didn't miss a beat. "It's time for you to leave, Lianne."

"No! She doesn't have to leave! Why do you treat her that way?"

"It's no problem, Marlene, really," Lianne told her.

"Yes, it is," Marlie replied, almost pleading with Lianne to believe her. "She's your daughter and she owes you more than that.

"You're one to speak!" Veronica said, her face contorted. "And you know that? You're grounded. You go from home to school to home again and there will be no more clandestine meetings with Lianne. Now go to your room. This conversation is over."

Marlie exploded. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

"Actually I have _every _right, Marlie, and —!"

"You're not even my real mother!" Marlie snarled. "You're not!"

"Guess what, kid? Legally, I _am_! Which means I say where you go and who you spend your time with. You answer to me. Now _go_ to your room."

"I hate you!" Marlie screamed. "All you ever do is try and control me and you don't even like me! You didn't even want kids!" At some point Lianne had slipped from the room and left, but Marlie didn't even care anymore. She was too blinded with rage.

"Then why did I adopt you?" Veronica asked. "If I hate kids so much and never wanted them, why did I adopt you?"

"Because you wanted to ruin my life!" Marie cried.

"Oh, that's _very _mature, Marlie, really. You're certainly going to take the world by storm with _that _attitude! I know you think you're some sort of victim, but I gave you everything! I sacrificed my _life_ to take care of you, to give you a better life, and you're still not happy! I'm tired of that! And as long as you're under my roof, then you're going to follow my rules, do you hear? If I have to tell you one more time to go to your room, you're not just grounded for a month; you're grounded until your hair turns gray!"

Marlene stared at her for a moment. She stared at her fiery blue eyes and furious face. She had never hated her mother more. And she couldn't stand to talk to her for a minute longer; she couldn't stand to even be in the same _house_ as her for another moment. So she turned away, walking right out of the house.

Veronica followed.

"You can't keep running away, Marlie! It doesn't work that way!" Veronica yelled.

"WATCH ME!" Marlie yelled back.

She saw from the corner of her eye when her father appeared at the door next to her mother. But she was too far away to hear what they said, and she didn't care. She could think of only one place she could stand to be at this point, and this time, it wasn't the house of one of her mother's minions.

"Where do you think she's off to now?" asked Logan.

"Lianne's," Veronica answered. There was a pregnant pause before she mumbled softly, her eyes staring at Marlie's retreating figure, "I hate that she. . . ."

"That she what?"

"That she's just like _me._"

* * *

It was Lianne who made the offer.

Marlie had fled to Lianne's house and ending up spending the rest of the evening and even the night. This time, though, her mom didn't call. A part of Marlie wished she would. Did her mom really hate Lianne so much that she wouldn't even call to make sure her daughter was okay?

"This is nice," Marlie told Lianne, sitting and sipping hot chocolate with Lianne in the living room. The TV was on softly in the background, and Marlie felt more comfortable and at home with Lianne at that moment then she had felt at her house with Logan and Veronica for weeks.

"It is," Lianne replied, giving a small smile and taking a sip out of her own mug. And then, so timidly she couldn't even look at Marlie, she made the suggestion. "You can always stay over her more often."

"What?"

"I mean, if you wanted, you could come and . . . live here with me. I'd love to have you."

Marlie was too shocked to answer.

But as she lay in a foreign bed that night, the idea began to take root in her mind.

* * *

_  
A/N: I know this chapter was shorter than the others, but that's just how it all worked out. The next chapter should be up soon! : )_


	5. Chapter 5

Logan lay down on the bed, yawning.

His life might not have been perfect, but it was as close to it as he could have ever hoped, and truth be told, it was more than he could have ever wished. He loved his job, he loved his kids, and he loved his wife. It still amazed him sometimes: he had actually gotten Veronica for _keeps. _She had agreed to marry him, to be with him in sickness and health until the day she dies. It still made him smile to think about.

Except now everything was falling apart. Veronica was tense at all times, even to the point that he worried about the baby, and she didn't want to talk to him or anyone else. The boys were both worried and confused but there was no good way to answer their questions, and Marlie . . . she was always running away from them as fast as she could.

It wasn't fair.

Lianne was just like his mother, and just as he had come to hate his mom, he hated Lianne. _He_ had been there for Marlie. _He_ had driven her to the doctor's at three in the morning when she got the chicken pocks at age two. _He _had invented wild stories about princesses and castles and dragons to get her to sleep at night. _He _had taken her to her first day of kindergarten. _He_ had let her sleep in his bed with him when she saw the movie Hocus Pocus and had nightmares for a week.

_He _had always been around to raise her and love her and make sure she was never scared or alone or hurt.

And all she was interested in was Lianne. How was that fair? But he couldn't hate Marlie for that; he couldn't be angry at her or even annoyed. He knew Veronica was. But he couldn't be. He never could be. Veronica said he was too soft when it came to Marlie. She said he spoiled her. But he didn't care.

He _liked_ spoiling her. Or at least he had, when she'd stayed around the house for more than two seconds. All he wanted was for her to forget about Lianne, to forget about all the sordid past she was slowly learning and remember who really loved her and where she really belonged. But how could he make that happen?

"What are you thinking about?" Veronica asked suddenly.

He had thought she was asleep.

"Marlie," he answered honestly. She didn't reply, but he hadn't expected her to. She didn't like talking about Marlie now. She hated it, in fact. He knew it was killing her, what was happening. And he wished he could take that pain away; he wished he could make everything better for her and for Marlie and for himself. He couldn't, though. He was helpless.

He thought about the baby. It was a girl. Would it be like Marlie? Would it be like Veronica? Would it be like _him?_ He tired to imagine the female version of himself. He suddenly saw too many teenage boys hanging around. That was _not_ going to happen. He'd send her to a convent first.

He'd told Marlie the same thing a few years ago. No boy, no matter how smart, wealthy, funny, intelligent, or attractive he might be, was going any where _near _his baby. The very thought drove him even crazier than the idea of boys going any where near Veronica had back before they were together for good.

Of course, when he'd told Marlie that he'd put her in a convent before he'd let a boy near her, she'd laughed and swatted his arm and told him, "Dream on, Daddy." Where had that amazing girl gone? The one who smiled and laughed and called him Daddy? All he got from her now were disappointed, unhappy stares and sharp, one word answers. He sighed softly to himself.

The bed shifted as Veronica scooted close to him. She couldn't exactly curl into him, but she pressed her side to his, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around her stomach. She was warm and soft in his arms and he breathed in that familiar smell. "I miss her," Veronica whispered. Marlie was still around; they still saw her every night, even if on this particular night she had run from the house and straight to Lianne's.

But Logan knew what his wife meant.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, his hand running over her stomach, over his tiny little baby growing inside this woman he loved so much. "Maybe you should tell her that," he said gently. She didn't reply. A part of him wanted to repeat the words, wanted to force her to listen and realize that she couldn't expect Marlie to understand everything without explanation.

But Logan knew it would be a waste of his time. "I miss her, too," he whispered. A moment later he felt hot tears on his neck and the slight tremble of a silently crying Veronica in his arms, but he didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say, anyhow, and there was nothing Veronica wanted to hear.

He just pulled her even closer.

"Logan?" she asked a few minutes later, her voice even softer than before.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause. "Never mind," she finally said.

He smiled to himself. "I love you, too, Veronica."

"That wasn't what I was going to say!" she protested.

"What were you going to say, then?" She didn't reply immediately. "Veronica?" he pressed, not sure whether to be concerned or amused.

"I hope this baby loves me," she told him, the words coming out hurriedly, and there was a note of vulnerability in her voice that was so rarely there. For an instant he was angry at Marlie for causing that vulnerability, that _hurt_, in Veronica. It faded, though; she was just a kid, after all. . . .

"This baby will love you," he said, his voice firm. "The same way that Ben loves you and Jason loves you and . . . Marlie loves you."

"I . . . I know," she whispered, and the trace of vulnerability was stubbornly pushed aside. "Goodnight," she told him, and he knew she had closed her eyes. He stared into the darkness for a moment. For so long in high school and college she hadn't said it, but after all these years she had come to say it at least once a day, right before she fell asleep. Well, _usually_ she did. She didn't when they were fighting and she hadn't done it very often lately. . . .

"I love you," she said softly.

It _was_ always what she said right before drifting off to sleep. He smiled, closing his eyes and imaging when everything with Marlie and Lianne would resolve itself and things would go back to normal. It had to eventually, right? "I love you, too."

* * *

_Veronica swung open the door to see a rather shocked Logan standing there. She wasn't sure whether he was shocked by the fact that she obviously hadn't showered in days, the bit of fresh spit-up on her shoulder, or the red-faced, screaming baby on her hip. "Hi. . . ." he greeted slowly._

"_Hi, Logan," she sighed, shifting Marlene from one hip to the other tiredly. She tried rocking the baby slightly but the small blonde continued howling. "Is everything okay?" she asked him. "Do you need something?"_

_It was about nine in the morning on a Saturday; she couldn't begin to imagine what he was doing at her apartment._

"_I just wanted to see how you were doing. I stopped by your dorm but Mac told me you had moved back with your dad and I . . . I just wanted to catch up and make sure everything was okay."_

_Veronica gave him the best smile she could muster. It was kind of sweet of him. "I moved back because it was cheaper and because Dad needed help caring for the baby."_

"_So . . . does this mean your mom's back?"_

_Veronica scoffed. "No. That winner of a woman isn't back. But she did leave a note when she abandoned her baby in a hotel room two weeks after the kid was born. So when they found a crying baby in an empty room. . . ."_

"_They gave you and your dad the baby?" he asked._

"_They didn't have many other options," Veronica said, nodding. "And, you know, it's what my loving mother told them to do in her heartfelt note." She looked down at the baby, officially two months old yesterday. So much time had passed and yet no time at all._

_Logan nodded as if he understood. But he didn't move. It was obvious what he wanted. She resisted the urge to sigh. She had sort of missed him, and if he didn't mind a screaming baby and the smelly, vomit mat that she had become, then what the hell._

"_Do you want to come in?" she offered._

"_Sure," he said, smiling. She turned away, walking into the house and leaving the door open for him to follow her. She felt the smallest twinge of embarrassment at the state of the apartment: baby toys and clothing were scattered everywhere; the bookshelf in the living room had collapsed, spilling its contents across the ground, and it had yet to be picked up. Dishes were pilled high in the sink; Chinese takeout from the night before was still on the kitchen table. _

_But it was Logan. What the hell did he care? And even if he did, why should _she_ care that he cared? She hadn't even seen him since that time at the hospital, although that could have been because she had been spending all her free time with the baby._

"_Looks like things are going well for you," he said slowly, his eyes gazing around the house, "I've never seen the place this spic and span before."_

"_Are you making a crack at my housekeeping skills, buddy?" Veronica asked him, cocking an eyebrow at him._

_He raised his hands defensively. "I'd never, Miss Mars."_

_Marlene was still screaming. At only two months old, the baby was the loudest thing Veronica had ever heard. She didn't understand how Marlene could possibly have the strength to cry and scream that loudly for that long. She tried again to rock the baby but it was to no avail. "Come on, kid," she muttered. "Come on."_

_This would be so much easier if she knew something, _anything_, about babies._

_Keith did, but he was working more than ever right now to try and scrounge up some more money, and Alicia did, but things were somewhat rocky with her and Keith, and Veronica wasn't even sure that her dad had told his girlfriend that he was currently caring for his ex-wife's baby._

"_You — you got a little, you know, on your shoulder," Logan told her, half nodding and half pointing at the spit-up._

"_Thank you, Captain Obvious," she replied, rolling her eyes. She grabbed a dishtowel from the kitchen and wiped the spit up, before tossing the towel on top of the dishes. She'd clean it up eventually._

_It was quiet for a few minutes while Logan stood awkwardly aside as Veronica tried to tempt Marlene into happiness with toys. "Want this teddy bear? It's cute, right? Huh, want the teddy bear?" A small fist swatted wildly at the bear. "Come on, kid, what's the bear ever done to you? Okay, fine, whatever. How about the _Care_ Bear? It _Cares_ about you! No, no, don't like that one either. . . ."_

"_How are classes going for you?" Logan finally asked._

_Veronica looked up at him slightly distracted. "Ah . . . fine, they're fine. What about you? Are you — isn't the hippo cute? Come on, kid, stop crying and play with the hippo! — are you going to your classes this year?"_

"_Actually, yes," Logan replied. "I'm working on that whole being an upstanding citizen thing."_

"_That working out for you?" Veronica asked tiredly._

"_A bit. Hey, maybe it would be better if I came back later."_

_Veronica looked up at him with a knowing smile. "Sure. I'll . . . just see you around." She sighed, getting up off her knees and depositing Marlie in her swing. She was still screaming, but Veronica had to go the bathroom so the kid would just have to scream. There was nothing Veronica could do._

_She smiled at Logan, telling him, "I'll see you later," and wandering back to the bathroom. To her surprise, when she stepped back into the kitchen, Marlene was no longer crying. She wasn't in her swing either._

_Logan was holding her._

_He had his keys out and was holding them over her. She was reaching for them and giggling, drooling a little. Veronica didn't know what to think at the sight. Logan looked over at her, realizing she was back. "She likes the keys," he said._

"_I see that," Veronica said softly, stifling a yawn._

"_So . . . does this mean you and your dad are keeping the baby?" Logan asked hesitantly._

"_I . . . I honestly don't know," she answered. "I don't want to give her up for adoption. It seems so wrong. My dad's looking for Lianne but he's not having much luck finding her, and even if he does . . . could she really raise a kid? But it's not easy trying to take care of her. I haven't slept in days and . . . I don't think we can do it. We don't have the time or money or," she let out a desolate chuckle, "or any of it."_

_She hadn't really said it all aloud to anyone. She knew it and her dad knew it so what was the point in saying it to one another? And in the past month and a half they had been pretty much in their own sad bubble, so who else was there to talk to? "I don't even have time to think about it," she said, rubbing her temple and yawning again._

"_So . . . take some time," Logan said softly. _

"_What?" Veronica frowned._

"_I'll babysit Marlene for you. Take her back to the Grand and introduce her to Dick. Don't worry, though; I won't let him touch her. You can get some sleep or shower or something. Whatever." _

_Veronica didn't really know what to say. "I don't know, Logan. . . ."_

"_I'm not gonna kill the kid, Veronica. I can take care of her for two hours. If I can't handle it I'll just bring her right back, okay? You can try and get some sleep. You need some. You can't live like this. And I'm doing pretty good right now."_

_Veronica looked at Marlene, tucked safely and _not _crying in Logan's arms._

_Slowly, she agreed. "Okay. Two hours. Bring her right back."_

_Logan smiled._

_The moment he left, Veronica collapsed on her bed and was asleep within seconds. When she awoke, it was a little after four in the afternoon. She groggily sat up, trying to remember what was going on and where she was, before suddenly alarm shot through her. She had been asleep for _eight_ hours. _

_She ran from her bedroom only to stop short. The kitchen was sparkling clean; the laundry was running. All the toys were picked up; everything from the broken shelf was stacked neatly in the corner. And a woman who Veronica was nearly positive was Mrs. Navarro, Weevil's once ailing grandmother, was vacuuming Veronica's living room._

_Veronica stared._

_What the _hell _was going on?_

"_Morning, sunshine!" Logan greeted. _

_Veronica stared at him. "What . . . what's going on?"_

"_Not much," Logan answered cheerfully. A rather contended Marlene was on his hip. It looked as if she had been given a bath, and she was dressed in fresh clothing. The vacuum cleaner didn't seem to bother her. "Feeling better after your nap?" Veronica continued to stare at him._

"_Logan!" she finally exclaimed._

"_What?" he asked._

"_What?" she repeated outraged. "Why is my house clean? Why is Mrs. Navarro here? Why are you still here? What's going on?!"_

"_Um, I thought this was rather evident but since you asked: your house is clean because Mrs. Navarro cleaned it. And she cleaned it because I'm paying her to clean it since she needs the money and you need it to be cleaned. Plus, she really likes me now since I paid for her to get care at a private hospital and she's all better."_

"_You . . . you. . . ." Veronica wasn't sure what to start with. "You paid for Mrs. Navarro to get better at a private hospital?"_

"_She really wasn't that sick, actually," Logan told her conversationally. "She just couldn't afford the right care because she didn't have any health insurance. She called me to ask if I could recommend her for a job at a hotel since they gave health insurance and she really needed it, and I started doing a little research and found out she was sick but she couldn't afford to stop working and, well, I took it from there."_

"_But . . . _why_?" Veronica asked._

"'_Cause she was always nice to me," Logan answered simply. "And so I could hold it over Weevil." He grinned. _

_Veronica didn't say anything for a moment. "And now . . . now she's cleaning my house?"_

"_I'm paying her, don't worry," he replied._

_It took Veronica a moment to process it all before, "I don't you need you to pay people to clean my house!" she yelled._

"_I wouldn't yell if I were you; it'll probably upset Marlie. Right, kid?" he asked the little baby in his arms, who only looked up at him with big blue eyes._

"_Marlie?" Veronica repeated._

"_I think it's cute."_

_Again, Veronica could only stare._

_Logan took a step closer to her. "I know things between us aren't too great right now, Veronica, and I don't know if they ever will be again. But I want to help you. You're trying to . . . you're trying to take care of this baby and make up for the fact that her mom abandoned her and . . . I wish there had been someone around to take care of me when my mom abandoned me. So I want to help. _

"_Mrs. Navarro has just gotten out of the hospital and she needs a job. I'm paying her to do cleaning for you twice a week . . . if that's okay. It helps you and it helps her." He paused. "Let me do this for you."_

"_I don't think so, Logan," Veronica answered slowly._

_He seemed to evaluate his next move. "Give me one good reason why not."_

_She glanced around the clean room. Mrs. Navarro caught her eye and gave a cheery wave, oblivious to their conversation as the vacuum was too loud. It really was weird that Marlene wasn't bothered by that. Marlene. If Veronica and Keith had a little help then maybe they really could keep her. . . . _

_Veronica couldn't imagine keeping her. She was twenty years old, for God's sake! Who did she look like — Lorelei Gilmore? But she wouldn't actually be raising her . . . but could her dad? He didn't have the time!_

_At the same time, though, she couldn't really imagine just giving Marlene away. It would seem so wrong. She was her _sister._ And besides, she'd been with them for five weeks and Veronica was starting to get a little attached. . . . _

"_Please, Veronica. You'd just be giving a job to a poor cleaning lady. How can you say no to that? Where's your heart?"_

_She glared at him for that._

"_You still haven't given me a reason," he told her. She sighed._

_It might be wrong, but . . . "Just cleaning? No babysitting or cooking or anything else?"_

"_Maybe a little shoe-shining."_

_She glared at him. "Just cleaning," he said, nodding obediently. "Scouts honor." He raised his free hand with a solemn expression._

_It took a minute, but at long last, she said tiredly, "Fine."_

_That was when everything changed._

* * *

"Ms. Echolls?"

Marlie looked up from the writing assignment Mr. Jackson, her English teacher, had just given the class. One of the office-aides was standing in the doorway. "You're getting picked up for early dismissal, Marlie," said Mr. Jackson.

"By who?" Marlie frowned. She thought suddenly of her mother sitting in the office waiting for her and her stomach churned uncomfortably. She did _not _need to deal with Veronica right then.

Mr. Jackson looked at the office-aide who only shrugged. He disappeared back into the hallway, probably to deliver another message, but Mr. Jackson was still staring at her. "Well?" he asked. Marlie sighed, gathering up her books and shoving them into her backpack. "Your paper's due on Friday!" he reminded her as she left.

To her relief, it wasn't Veronica waiting for her. It was Uncle Wallace. She smiled.

"You got me out of sixth period and now I don't even have to go to seventh," she said. "You're a lifesaver."

He grinned. "You know it. Come on. Let's get some food. I'm starving. Penny's on some new diet," he said as they left the school and started crossing the parking lot, "and all we eat at the house any more is fish and green beans. A man has to eat some _real_ meat!" Marlie laughed softly.

"Is that really why you picked me up?" she asked.

He shrugged. "That," he said, "and to talk to you about . . . everything. But you knew that the moment you saw me." He looked at her from the side as they walked. She nodded. It wouldn't be so bad, really. He wouldn't force any conversation on her, and it'd probably be nice to talk to him.

It had been three days since she'd spent the night at Lianne's house, and although she had returned home the next day and was staying there once more, Veronica hadn't said a single word to her. The woman wouldn't even _look _at her. Things with her dad weren't too swell either. Not to mention the fact that Keith and Alicia had come to dinner last night and it had been beyond awkward. . . .

She climbed into Uncle Wallace's car. It would be nice to talk to him; to have _somebody _to talk to. He smiled at her as he pulled the car out of the parking lot and she smiled back. She wondered what he thought of everything that was happening.

It was silent for a few minutes as they drove. "Are you mad at me?" she asked suddenly.

He glanced at her. "Why would I be?" he asked, his eyes returning to the road.

"For wanting to get to know Lianne," she answered honestly. "For meeting up with her and then spending the night at her house. My mom won't talk to me at all anymore."

"If you want to get to know Lianne, that's your thing," he told her. "Nobody gets to decide if that happens but you." Marlie smiled. "But your mom . . . well, she loves you, so don't think on it too much. Just remember that she loves you."

"If she loved me," Marlie replied bitterly, "she wouldn't hate me for trying to get to know Lianne."

Uncle Wallace took his time responding. "Have you noticed that you still call Veronica your mom and Lianne by her name?"

"Old habits die hard," she answered simply.

He glanced at her again. "Your mom loves you, Marlie. She does. But it's always been hard for her, accepting people into her life who have hurt her once. Lianne is one of those people. She's been burned too many times to want to risk getting burned again."

Marlie rolled her eyes. "I know, I know," she said, "my mom had such a horrible past and she's so scarred because of it and blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all before, Uncle Wallace."

"You've heard that, yeah, but nobody's ever actually told you what happened in that past. Not the really bad stuff." Marlie frowned, staring at him, waiting for more.

"This is the part where _you_ tell me," she said.

He chuckled. "It's not my place. I'm just saying that you don't know everything about your mom. And her mom, Lianne, she represents a part of Veronica's life that wasn't so good. That was the opposite of good. And it's hard for Veronica to deal with. She's not a superwoman or anything."

"I know," Marlie murmured.

"So cut her some slack, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. It was quiet for a few minutes.

"She asked me to move in with her." Marlie wasn't sure if she had intended to say it or it had just slipped out, but it didn't really matter. Either way she'd said it. The words were out in the air, there for Uncle Wallace to soak up.

"Lianne?" Marlie only nodded. "Damn," Uncle Wallace murmured, "you sure know how to bury the lead, girl." Marlie smiled slightly at that response.

"Sorry," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he assured. It was silent for a little while again, but this time he was the one finally to break it. "Are you going to?" he asked. "Move in with her, I mean."

"Veronica would never let me," Marlie told him, pressing her forehead to the glass of the passenger side window.

"She'd let you," Uncle Wallace said. "Just the way she let's you run off and stay with me and Mac and Lianne. She'd never try and control you."

"She grounded me," Marlie said, not wanting to think anything good of her mom.

"Has she tried to enforce it?" he asked. She didn't reply. "She's not the villain, Marlie."

"I want her to be," Marlie replied, realizing she sounded rather immature.

"You know, my mom's real name isn't Alicia." Marlie frowned, looking over at her uncle Wallace with a furrowed brow.

"What?"

"She changed her name when she ran away from my father when I was just a baby." Marlie didn't know what to say. How come she had never heard this before? She was beginning to think she knew _nothing_ about the past of _anyone_ in her life. "She went on to marry the man I was always told was my father, the man who I got my last name from, the man who really is the father of your uncle Darryl."

"Wow," Marlie said softly, realizing what he was trying to say. "So you . . . you. . . ."

"Found out my senior year of high school that the man I'd always been told my father really wasn't, that my mom had been lying to me for my _entire_ life and that she had kept my father from me even though he wanted to get to know me? Yeah."

"I didn't know," Marlie said, reeling.

"It's not really something I start conversations with," he replied, giving a small smile.

"So what happened when you found out?" she asked. "_How_ did you find out?"

"Nathan — that was his name, my real dad — came. Found us. Told me the truth and forced my mom to tell the whole story."

"What did you do?" she pressed as he turned the car into the parking lot of his favorite restaurant.

"I didn't know what to do. When I asked you mom, she told me to side with my mom. She said that the hero was the one who stays and the villain is the one that leaves. It was always simple for her. But it wasn't so simple for me and . . . it was tough." He turned the car off.

"It isn't ever simple. Mom just likes to think it is."

"Sometimes, Marlie, painting everything black and white is the way to deal. You can't hold it against your mom that she found a way to deal with it all." He was quiet for a moment. "Lianne didn't just abandon you when you were a baby, Marlie," he said softly. "She abandoned your mom, too."

Marlie didn't know what to say.

He climbed out of the car and she followed suit, and neither of them spoke as they entered the restaurant and seated themselves.

They talked about regular things for a little while. She told him how much she hated her math class; he told her a story about the new cat Aunt Penny had just brought home. She described a food fight that had gone on in the cafeteria; he explained the process he'd gone through to buy a new lawn mower. They both discussed TV with fervor.

And then, as she was finishing up her waffles and ice cream, _the_ topic came up again.

"So what are you going to do about Lianne's offer?" he asked her.

"To live with her?" He nodded. "I . . . don't know. Things are so bad with my parents right now that I'm thinking about taking it." She paused. "Plus . . . I like her, you know? And I think it might be kind of nice to get a chance to know her . . . _really._ But what if I regret it? She did abandon me once, so. . . ."

"People make mistakes. They do things they regret. Sometimes you just have to forgive 'em for it. You can't live hating everybody."

"My mom does," Marlie countered.

"Veronica's forgiven her fair share of people, even if it wouldn't seem like it."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you want to get to know Lianne, it's not a crime. I'm saying that I went and lived with Nathan. And while I came home eventually, I was glad that I did it. I still am today." It took Marlie a minute to process what he was _really_ saying.

He was saying she should go live with Lianne.

"Just know," he told her, "that no matter what happens, Veronica is your mom. You're sixteen years old. Your mom was sixteen years old, too, the first time Lianne left her."

Now she was just confused.

* * *

_A/N: Once again this is a shorter chapter, but I think it works. I know everyone has mixed opinions on Marlie (most leaning towards the dislike category) but she has some hits coming, so be nice! Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter posted tomorrow, but I may not have the chance, so hang tight. : )_


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you want something to drink . . . maybe?" she offered hesitantly. He shook his head. She nervously flattened her hair. "Well . . . maybe something to eat? I can make you —"

"How long are you back for, Lianne?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to spend an afternoon that could be spent making money or with Alicia or with Veronica here, with the ex-wife who'd torn him to pieces years ago, trying to gauge her end game.

But he didn't have a choice. Obviously, his last visit hadn't been effective.

"Keith. . . ."

"I came over here weeks ago and you said that it was a mistake to try and see Marlie," he said. "You said that you didn't want to throw her life into chaos. You said that you had moved here a year ago because it was cheaper here than San Diego. You said that she wasn't part of the decision. But, honestly, Lianne, I'm not really buying that any more."

"I wasn't lying to you, Keith, I wasn't," Lianne immediately defended. "That was why I moved here. And going to your house that night — it was completely spur of the moment! I really did mean to keep out of it after that. But she called me, Keith! How could I say no to her?"

"Probably the same way you left her in a _hotel room_ sixteen years ago," he replied. She looked away from him, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Why can no one forgive me? I made a mistake, okay? I made a _lot_ of mistakes, I know." She faced him again, her face pleading. But I'm trying, here! I'm trying as hard as I can! But no matter how much time passes and no matter how hard I try, you and Veronica never seem to care!" Keith only stared, sighing.

She turned away, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from a nearby drawer and lighting one up. She smoked for a minute, leaning against the kitchen counter with her hand tightly gripping the edge and her eyes closed. She looked so much older.

"I still have it, you know," he finally said. Her eyes flickered open.

"Have what?" she asked softly.

"The note you left. Veronica threw it out, but I went back and rescued it from the trash. I kept it. I thought maybe Marlie would want to see it when we . . . when _we_ decided it was time for her to know the truth." She didn't say anything. He didn't need her to. He took the folded, yellowing paper from his pocket, unfolded it and smoothed it out, laying it on the kitchen table.

She stared at it.

"Do you remember what you wrote?" he asked. When she didn't say anything, he began to read aloud. _"Dear Keith and Veronica, I know this isn't the best way to do this, but it is the only way I can. I want to be better than this. I want to be better than I am. But I can't. I'm not._"

"You don't have to — to read it," Lianne protested softly.

Keith didn't heed her._ "No matter how hard I try, this is all I am, and I know that you both deserve better; I know that you demand better. I'm sorry. I tried to leave you to live your own lives separate from me. I wanted to raise this baby on my own without burdening you. But I can't do it. I've already used up what money I had and I have no idea how much longer I'll be able to stay sober. I'm sorry. It would be better for her to have you as her family, not me. She deserves you as I do not. Please don't deny her that because of what I am and what I'm not. I'm sorry."_

"Keith," Lianne said, her voice a whisper.

"Wait, wait, I'm getting to the best part," he told her. _"I really do love her and both of you. For as long as I live, you'll always be my family and I wish only the best for all of you. Love, Lianne."_

There was silence then as he finally looked away from the old, fading cursive hand-writing and at the woman to whom that hand-writing belonged. "If you only want the best for us, why is my family falling apart because of you? Why is Veronica crying herself to sleep every night? Why is Marlie running away every other day?"

Lianne shook her head, looking away from him determinedly.

"I understand that you want to get to know your daughter, Lianne," he said softly. "But if you truly loved her, you wouldn't be doing this to her. Or to her sister."

"I'm not doing anything to her!" Lianne defended. "I — you have no idea what I've sacrificed for her! I have done the best I can, and no one will . . . no one understands." Keith said nothing. There was pity rising in him. There was no way _not_ to pity her. How had she become this woman? How had things changed so much?

"How long are you here for, Lianne?" he finally asked again. "How long are you staying this time? That's all I want to know."

"I'm staying for good," she answered him. "I've been saving money for years and I bought this house. I'm staying for good." She said it firmly, bravely, fiercely.

He met her courageous gaze. "Did you save the money or did you get it from your husband when he died?" The color drained from her face at his question. _There._ She wasn't expecting him to know that. He had discovered her second marriage; he had finally found out the vital piece of information that had been hidden for so long.

"I — I . . . don't —"

"When you came to me all those years ago, pregnant, saying you had made a mistake, saying that there was no where for you to turn, I took you in," Keith said, ignoring her stuttering. "I found out that you had been living with Craig and that he was probably the father, but I didn't do anything about that fact. I didn't confront you. I didn't tell Veronica. But —!"

"I didn't get a penny from Craig!" Lianne insisted, interrupting. "He was trailer trash. He was . . . I saved the money, Keith. I'm here all on my own. His death was just . . . How do you even know? What gives you the right to — to dig into my past like that?"

"What gives me the right?" Keith repeated. "Perhaps it's the fact that you're the mother of my daughter and her daughter? Perhaps it's the fact that my entire family is suffering because of you?" he said, standing up in his anger.

"It's not my fault if things are. . . . She called _me_. She called me. She wants to get to know me. She's the one person in my life who can forgive me for all the mistakes I've made. And you can't blame me for wanting to make up those mistakes to her, to the one person who. . . . I know I've ruined everything with you and Veronica, but you can't take Marlene from me. You can't."

Keith said nothing. He turned away from her and started out of the house. When he glanced back at her, she wasn't trying to stop him or say anything. She was simply lighting another cigarette. "I remember Craig," he told her. She stared at him. "You dated him in college before we met. When I found out you were having an affair, I thought it was him before I learned it was Jake." He paused. "He was the one who's girlfriend putting a restraining order on him around the same time we got married. You sure know how to pick 'em."

"I picked you," she said softly.

"But I wasn't what you really wanted. I never was."

And he walked away without looking back this time.

* * *

"I want to talk to you about something."

No one responded to her announcement. Jason was spending the night at a friend's house; Ben was trying to sneak his peas to B.J. without anyone noticing. Her mother didn't even bat an eyelash. The closest thing she got to a response was the slight stiffening of her father's back. She hadn't talked to either of them in nearly two weeks, not since that disastrous fight, and they obviously were wary of what she would say.

They couldn't hold this against her, though; they couldn't.

"I've made a decision, and I hope you respect it, because it's what I want. I think it's what I deserve. And I think it would be best for all of us. I know that you can say no, but I'm asking please to let me do this."

"Ben," Veronica said softly, "it'd be easier to flush the peas down the toilet."

Ben looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'd use the upstairs bathroom if I were you," Logan recommended. "It's less temperamental."

"Really?" Ben asked, looking rather confused.

"Just this once," Veronica said. When he hesitated, she added, "act now on this special offer; it wouldn't come around again." Ben looked back and forth between his mother and father before gathering his peas onto a napkin and racing up the stairs. Veronica smiled after him for a moment. Her smile disappeared when she faced Marlie again.

"What do you want?" Logan asked softly, putting down his fork.

Suddenly they were both staring at her. Marlie swallowed. She had made her decision. This is what she wanted. She had already told Lianne she was going to ask. There was no backing out now.

"I want to move in with Lianne."

Veronica pushed back her chair and stood up. "Veronica," Logan began softly. Ignoring him, she walked out of the room. A moment later Marlie heard the front door open and slam closed again. And Veronica thought that _she _was immature. Marlie looked at her father.

"This is your hard for your mother," her father said softly.

"I can tell," Marlie replied dryly. It was quiet for a moment.

"Was it her idea or yours?" he asked.

"Hers. But I . . . I really want to do this, Dad. I want a chance to get to know her. It's not fair that I can't have that. I know what you and Mom did was in my best interest and everything but . . . but I deserve the chance to get to know her."

"What about school?"

"I'll drive the extra miles," Marlie told her. "If . . . if you'll let me have the Honda."

"I gave it to you, didn't I?" he asked. Marlie nodded, waiting for him to say something more. "Marlie, I know we haven't really talked about any of this . . . about your adoption and everything. Things haven't been so good lately in this house. Your mom and I have just been . . . do you want to talk about it?"

"I do," Marlie nodded, "but it won't change my mind." He stared down at his plate and she felt guild prickle her spine. How could he always do that to her? "I love you, Dad," she told him, and he met her gaze again, "and I . . . I love Mom, too." Those words came out more hesitantly. But they were true, really.

"But I," she went on slowly, "I want to get to know Lianne. I think maybe this would be the best way. It's not like I won't see you and Mom at all or anything. I'll still be in Neptune."

It took him a little while to answer. She had always thought of all the people in her family he was the one who understood her best, the one with whom she was closest. How had they gone from that to . . . _this? _"This is really what you want?" he questioned. His brown gaze bore into her. "You want to leave us? You want to live with her?"

"Yes," Marlie answered, and it came out as a whisper. He stood up, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Dad?"

"Okay," he said. "Okay. Move in with her."

"Really?" She had expected more of a fight than that. She had expected shouting and tears and . . . _more_.

"We can't force you to live with us if you don't want to, Marlie."

"I'm not saying that I don't. . . ."

"It's okay," he told her. "If this is what you want, we'll make it work." He gave her an encouraging smile. The fact of the matter, however, was that as good as her dad was at writing screenplays and best selling novels, the man was not an actor. He was nothing close. And the smile he gave her didn't reach his eyes.

Before she could say anything he was gone. He had left the room. She heard him climbing the stairs, probably to check on Ben. Marlie looked around the empty kitchen.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," she said. She had meant to say that. She had planned to say that.

But now there was no one was there to hear her.

* * *

Ben ran into her room. His pajamas were a little too small for him but he refused to let anyone buy him new ones. He had a ratty rocket-ship blanket with him, one that Grandma Alicia had gotten him when he was a baby.

Marlie knew why he was there. It was a shock the whole house hadn't come tumbling down at this point, her parents were shouting so loudly. Any minute the neighbors were going to call the police about a domestic dispute.

"Come here, Benny," Marlie whispered, inviting her little brother to join her in her bed. He looked relieved and crawled eagerly under the covers before wrapping his little arms around her. She smiled down at him.

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT TOLD HER TO GO ON AND MOVE OUT OF THE HOUSE! YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE PACKED HER BAGS FOR HER!"

"Do you want to read a story?" Marlie asked him, as if she couldn't hear her mother shouting. Ben nodded. "The usual?" she said knowingly. He nodded. She fished out the Percy Jackson books from her bedside table. Her father had gotten them for her years ago but Jason and Ben had always been more attached to them; they were falling apart at this point, with yellowing pages and torn covers.

"I'M NOT THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO TALK TO HER!" Logan bellowed.

"Which one do you want to read?" Marlie asked. "The Titan's Curse? That's my favorite."

"Mine, too," Ben agreed. His favorite was always whichever one Marlie suggested first. It was adorable, really. He had once told her that his two favorite heroes were Percy Jackson and his mom. He was such a mama's boy.

"I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN!" Veronica screamed. A door slammed.

"Marlie, why are Mommy and Daddy fighting?" Ben asked, his eyes wide.

"Let's start at the beginning, okay?" Marlie said, opening the book and not answering. She knew the answer. But she couldn't deal with it. Because this fight . . . this fight was worse than any of the others. She hadn't realized it; she had thought her parents fought all the time.

But they didn't.

They bickered and argued but it never lasted more than day; the shouting never got too loud. The last time they had gotten in a fight remotely close to one this bad, she and Jason had been shipped to spend the weekend with the young couple that lived down the street in Virginia. On Sunday night Mr. Lewis went by their house to see how things were going.

When he came back, Marlie had heard him telling Mrs. Lewis that she and Jason had to stay another night because, "they were on the kitchen _table_, Sally! The _table_! I can't believe I had to see that!" Marlie hadn't known what that meant at the time. She wasn't sure if it meant her parents were fighting anymore or not.

Ben was born nine months later.

Maybe they had fought like this more often when she was little. She had hazy memories of such. But they had fought badly less and less over the years. This fight made all their squabbles over carpools and screenplays and even babies seem silly. They were better parents than ones who fought viciously in front of their children. They were better _spouses_ than that.

At least, they had been, and she hadn't even realized it until now.

"Marlie?" Ben insisted. "Are they fighting because they don't love each other any more?"

"What?" Marlie said, looking down at him in alarm. The day her parents, as crazy as they were and as rocky as her relationship with them currently was, decided to split would be the day the world really came to a screeching halt.

"Jesse's parents stopped loving each other and now he only sees his daddy once a month. Am I only gonna see Daddy once a month?" He looked truly afraid.

"Mom and Dad still love each other, Ben, I promise you," she told him. "You're going to see them both every day for years and years. Okay?"

"But then why are they shouting?" Ben asked.

She looked away from him. "Because of me. They're fighting because of _me._"

* * *

"_LOGAN ECHOLLS!" Veronica shouted, storming into the Grand._

_Alarmed, he looked up from where he sat on the ground playing video games with Dick. "What's up?" he asked frowning._

"_What's up?" she repeated viciously. "What's UP?"_

"_Dude," Dick exclaimed, his eyes still glued on the scream, "I just totally ripped your head off!" Her eyes flashing, Veronica stepped forward and ripped the x-box cord out of the wall. Dick let out a yell of protest._

"_Scram!" Veronica replied angrily._

"_Did you forget to take your happy pills, Mars?" Dick asked, grinning. The fact that he took her anger less and less seriously over the years was really starting to bug her._

"_OUT!" Veronica yelled._

"_Okay, okay, jeez!" Dick said, making a face at Logan as pushed himself to his feet and started for the door. "I hate it when you PMS."_

"_Dick, I swear to God," Veronica began threateningly._

"_I'm gone, I'm gone," he assured, and then he really was, disappearing out of the suite. Veronica looked back at Logan, who had gotten to his feet._

"_What's going on?" he asked._

"_What's going on is that you are paying Mrs. Navarro to come by my house and do ALL the cleaning _and_ cooking and I can't kick her out without being mean and she keeps insisting she's being paid, and then I found out you paid all the my mom's hospital bills _and_ you paid for the rest of my Hearst education_ and _you set up a trust fund for Marlie!"_

_Logan stared at her. "To be honest, I expected you to figure it all out a while ago. Better be careful or they're going to take your Nancy Drew badge away." When she only stared at him, her jaw locked with indignation, he sighed and asked, "Is there a problem with my paying for any of that?"_

"_I DON'T NEED YOUR MONEY!" Veronica shouted at him angrily. _

_Three months ago she had agreed to let him pay Mrs. Navarro to clean the house twice a week. Since that time she had found herself running into him more and more often, as he suddenly seemed to think that being financially__ invested in her life he could once more be an actual part of her life. He had started helping her dad at the office, saying he needed to get some experience in the working world, and for the first time, Keith was actually starting to speak _well_ of Logan. And he was always volunteering to babysit Marlie and. . . ._

_She was rather enjoying it, truth be told, and she couldn't help but be touched by how much he liked playing with Marlie and how well he seemed to get along with her, but. . . . And suddenly Mrs. Navarro was coming around more and more often and doing more and more and then Keith was saying that all their money problems were disappearing and, _damn_ him, that sneaky little —!_

"_Actually," Logan said, not at all affected by her anger, "you kind of do. But don't worry. I have plenty to go around."_

"_You can't do that, Logan! You can't just —!"_

"_Why not?" he demanded, his calm demeanor gone in a flash. "Why can't I help the few people I care about? I don't have any family, Veronica. I don't have anyone but you and Dick. What I do have is money. So I'm giving that to you. I don't need it. And I want to help you. There's nothing wrong with that."_

"_Yes, there is," Veronica insisted._

"_Well, too bad!" Logan yelled. "You can't do everything yourself! Let me help you! I've gotten attached to Marlie too and I don't want to see you have to give her up! If that means paying for a few things, then okay! I'll do it!"_

"_It's _not_ that simple," Veronica told him._

"_Because you won't let it be," he replied. "What are you so afraid of? Do you think I'm going to turn on you again? 'Cause I hate to be the one to shatter all your ideas, Ronnie, but I've haven't abandoned you at all in years. I was an ass back in high school, but with a father who _beat_ me —,"_

_Veronica flinched at that; he spoke so rarely of that part of his life. But he just plowed right on, not seeming to care at his admission of weakness or her wincing response._

_"— and a mom who drank and drank and then threw herself off a bridge and a girlfriend who got murdered, can you really blame me? But you know what? Fine, blame me. The fact is I'm not that bastard any more. I grew up. I slept with Madison, yeah, because the one person who meant _anything_ to me was out of my life for what I thought was forever and I was drunk off my ass! I would have fucked anything that moved! That doesn't mean I was betraying you! _

"_And it doesn't mean I will betray you!_

"_I've been doing everything I can, Veronica. I've been going to all my classes; I've stopped drinking as much and I haven't so much as _looked_ at a girl in months. I've started helping your dad at the office and I actually _like_ spending time with Marlie. What is it gonna take, Veronica?_

"_Why won't you let me fucking help you?"_

_Veronica turned away from him. Every word out of his mouth was true. What was it about him that got her so riled up? Why did he bring out all the anger and bitterness in her? She turned to face him again. "I'm sorry," she said slowly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, "I just. . . ."_

"_You just don't want someone like me, I get it, really," Logan told her bitterly. "You can't have me be a part of your life in any way, because if I am then it means the Pizs and Duncans of the world can't be in your life, and that's who you want, isn't it? Whatever. I obviously can't change that."_

_She hated when he got self-deprecating like that. She _hated _it. Unable to stop herself, she told him furiously, "I wish it was that way. I wish that I wanted boys like Piz and Duncan. I wish I was the sort of girl that went with that sort of boy. But I'm not. Opposites don't really attract. Piz called himself a lover. But I'm a fighter, Logan. I wish I could change it, but —"_

"_I thought you were proud of that fact," he told her coldly. "Superwoman Veronica Mars to the rescue! Powers activate! The world needs me but I don't need anyone! Does your coat transform into a cape, Veronica? Be honest now — does it have a stripe?"_

_She shook her head. "You think you know me so well —" she began angrily._

"_Oh, I do," he told her, his eyes blazing. "That's what you wish you could change. No one's supposed to really know you, no one's really supposed to care about you —!"_

"_No!" she exploded. "You don't know me! And you don't get it! I don't want to be a fighter but I am! I wish I wasn't but I am! I've tried so hard not to be. But I'm a fighter and you're a fighter too and. . . ."_

"_And what?" he asked._

"_And I'm afraid to be with you because loving you means admitting I'm a fighter and admitting that . . . admitting that means admitting I can't control who I am and not being able to control who I am is the scariest fucking thing I've ever had to face!" The words poured out of her before she could stop them._

_He stared at her and her at him, and for a moment the only sound was their harsh breathing. Their yells lingered in the air; their wounds were open and raw. And an instant before it happened, she knew it would, and she also knew there was no use pretending there was anything else she wanted in the world at that moment._

_He ran at her, clutching her face in his hands and slamming his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking into him, into what was right and familiar and everything she had been too afraid to miss in all those months. He lifted her off the ground even as he began trailing kisses along her jaw._

"_Saying you don't want to love me really isn't the most romantic thing in the world," he told her between pants, even as they stumbled backwards towards his bedroom, "but I'll take what I can get."_

_She captured his mouth with hers again, desperate for more, and as her knees hit the bed and she folded onto it he came after her, his weight warm and right; her little hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his chest and his arms as she pushed the green t-shirt up, hoping to discard it and much, much more soon. . . . _

"_Wait, wait," he said, pulling away from her and holding her back, his arms tight around her arms. "Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning determinedly into hers even as she felt him hard against her leg. "Say it."_

_She didn't have to ask what. She stared at him for an instant, knowing what would happen if she said it. There was no going back after this. They couldn't keep playing the on and off again game. It would kill them both. Either they ended it for good now, stopped what they were doing and she left, or . . . _

"_Say it, Veronica."_

_She took a breath. She was what she was. It was about time she accepted that. It was about time she accepted herself . . . and him._

"_I love you."_

* * *

"I wanted your life to be a fairy tale," Veronica told her.

Marlie looked up from unloading the clothing in her dresser to stare at her mother. In the week since she had said she wanted to move out of the house, her mother hadn't said a word to her. She had gotten permission, though, so she'd begun to pack.

"What?" Marlie asked.

"Maybe not a fairy tale, but something close," her mom went on.

"My life was once. I had a boyfriend I loved, a best friend I adored, and parents who couldn't have been more amazing. Then my boyfriend dumped me for no reason, my best friend was murdered and all I had left were my parents. And then I didn't even have them both."

_"Your mom was sixteen years old, too, the first time Lianne left her."_

"Mom . . .," Marie began hesitantly, not sure exactly what she was going to say.

"I didn't want that for you," Veronica said, and she had this look on her face, a look of near _confusion_, as if she couldn't understand how all her plans had gone so horribly awry. "I wanted you to have . . . I wanted it to be so that even if you . . . even if you didn't find that perfect boy and even if your best friend was murdered or something equally bad happened, I still wanted you to have parents who loved you no matter what.

"I tried so hard to give you that."

"You did give me that," Marlie said, suddenly flushing with guilt for all the things she'd said to her mom. How did parents do that? How could they be so horrible for so long and you were perfectly within your rights to rip them to pieces, and then suddenly they made guilt your new best friend?

Was there an instruction manual? Did they take a class? Because Logan and Veronica Echolls aced that class. Straight 100s across the board.

"If you go to live with her, Marlie, she'll only hurt you."

Marlie looked away from her mom. "I don't believe that," she replied softly.

"I know you don't. You don't want to believe it. I didn't either once upon a time. My mom left me when I was your age, she abandoned your grandpa and . . . and she abandoned me, but I searched for her. I couldn't believe she really. . . . I found her. I used all my college money to put her in a clinic to get sober. I didn't believe she'd really meant to abandon me. But when she came home, she was still drunk, she'd wasted my money and she left again."

"Maybe she's changed," Marlie said defiantly. She still couldn't look at her mother. Why didn't Veronica understand? It wasn't the same. It _wasn't._ It couldn't be.

"She hasn't."

"You don't know that!" Marlie insisted. Her mother didn't say anything for so long that Marlie finally looked back at her. Veronica's face had gone steely. That was never a good sign.

"I do know that," she answered slowly. Her eyes darted around the half-packed room. "And you will too eventually." She left the room before Marlie could get a word in. If that was her idea of convincing Marlie not to leave, it wasn't very effective. She went on with her packing.

But as she lay in bed that night, her mother's words echoed in her head. The words, though, weren't nearly as bad as the look on her mother's face as she spoke those words, a look that swam before Marlie's eyes until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

Marlie started slow. "You haven't really said anything about . . . and I haven't asked or . . . about my mom. Veronica. Why did you . . . why did you leave her and Grandpa Keith?"

Lianne paused with her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. They had finished painting Marlie's soon-to-be room and were having a celebratory dinner. Marlie didn't want to ruin it, but she had to know. The nagging voice in her head courtesy of her mother wouldn't let her _not_ know.

"I was scared for her," Lianne answered, slowly lowering her fork back to her plate. "Lilly Kane's murder . . . it was terrifying and Keith was so involved in the investigation. Someone started to threaten Veronica's life if I didn't leave. It's hard to . . . it's really complicated. But I had to leave. I didn't want to come home to find my daughter dead the way Celeste Kane came home to find Lilly."

It didn't make much sense to Marlie, but she knew one thing: Veronica hadn't said a word about a threat on her life. It was kind of something pretty big to leave out.

It took her about a week to pack up the rest of her things after that. The room in Lianne's house that had been set aside for her was larger than her room at home, and Marlie and Lianne had gone out on a Saturday afternoon to pick out a bedspread and furnishings and curtains and it had been actual _fun._

There was a word that the Echolls family didn't seem to remember anymore: fun. At least not as far as Marlie was involved. It didn't matter, though. She was going to live with Lianne; the decision had been made. Ben asked her why she was going. She told him she wanted to get to know Lianne. "Why?"

"Because she's my mom."

"But Mom is your mom," he replied, frowning in an adorable way.

"I have two moms," she told him.

"Why?"

"I just do."

"But what's wrong with our mom? Don't you love her?"

"I do, of course I do, I just . . . I need to live with Lianne."

"Why?"

She gave up at that point. She had talked to Keith and Alicia, explaining her choice. They'd been rather nice about it. Grandpa Keith had given her one of his large, warm hugs, telling her that she was his beautiful baby girl no matter what, and that she could always come to him for anything.

That was the sort of response she wanted from her parents. But it didn't matter. It _didn't._

When Jason had asked her why she was leaving, she'd tried to explain it to him a little better than she had with Ben. It didn't really work. "So you're just leaving us?" he asked, ten-year-old anger radiating off him. "Getting a new family?"

"No, I'm just —!" she protested. He didn't let her get a word in.

"You've been acting weird for weeks!" he yelled. "You never want to do anything with me anymore and you're the worst big sister in the world. I don't care if you leave!"

That was probably the worst of it all. She could handle her parents ignoring her. She could shoulder the confused "Why?" that Ben continually gave her. She could take her grandpa and grandma's quiet disappointment. But she had always liked to think of herself as a good big sister; it was something she had prided herself on before everything had changed. . . .

She had been nothing close to a good big sister for months.

But there was nothing she could do about it now. Two and a half weeks after she made the announcement to her parents, she moved out. She packed all of her things into Lianne's truck. Her father had actually helped her.

Her mother, on the other hand, had watched from the kitchen window, her face blank.

When they were finished, she found herself wrapped in an awkward hug with her father. "If you need anything," he told her, "I'll be around." She nodded as she pulled away.

"Thanks," she murmured. He said nothing more, only gave a stiff nod to Lianne, waiting nearby, and walked back to the house. As he went in, Veronica came out, and Marlie wondered if her mother would finally show _some_ sort of emotion, _any_ sort of emotion. Would she get angry and demand Marlie didn't leave? Would she break down into tears? Would she hug Marlie tightly the way her father just had?

"Hi Veronica," Lianne said hesitantly. Veronica only stared at her. Marlie felt bad. Lianne didn't deserve the cold shoulder from Veronica. She really didn't.

"Let me talk to her," Marlie told her, smiling. She turned to face her mom again.

"Don't — don't worry about it, sweetie," Lianne said, wavering under Veronica's glare.

"Sweetie?" repeated Veronica, her lip curling. Lianne flinched.

"Mom," Marlie began, "I. . . ."

"Goodbye, Marlie."

Marlie heard Veronica lock the door after she slammed it shut. That was it. They left.

Lianne had a huge Italian dinner to celebrate Marlie's first night with her, and it had been a lot of fun dancing around the kitchen listening to music blasted at full volume. They'd stayed up late watching old TV and talking about stupid, silly things.

The next morning, a new routine began. She had cereal for breakfast instead of pancakes; no one argued over packed lunches. Lianne kissed her on the cheek before she left for school. It was strangely normal and yet. . . . School passed without incident. Marlie updated her friends on what had happened; they all understood, even if none of them _really_ understood. How could they?

Dinner was fun again. But Marlie spent the whole night wondering what her parents were doing right then, what they were having for dinner and if they were thinking about her. It was past ten at night when the phone rang. "It's for you," Lianne said, holding out the cordless.

"Hello?" Marlie asked, wondering who had called. All of her friends would use her cell phone. . . .

"Hey, Marlie," her father greeted softly. She was surprised. She hadn't expected him to call. "How are you?" he asked.

"I — I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm fine." There was silence. "How was school?"

"Good. I think my English test went well. And I got an A on my paper."

"That's good." Again, the line went quiet. Marlie was glad he had called, she really was, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. There were a thousand things to say, really, but suddenly, somehow, her mind was blank. "Ben says Hi," he told her.

"Tell him I said Hi, too," she replied.

"Your, ah, your mom, Veronica, I mean, says Hi too."

"Does she really?" Marlie asked skeptically. He didn't answer right away. She knew that was her answer. "You don't have to lie to me, Dad," she went on sharply, angry at her mother.

"Goodnight, Marlie," he said, a sigh in his voice.

"Goodnight, Da —."

He'd already hung up the phone.

"What did he have to say?" Lianne asked kindly as Marlie handed her the phone.

"He was just saying Hi," she answered softly. Lianne smiled.

"That's nice."

"Yeah."

Her dad didn't call the next night or the night after that. Soon fun dinner was just dinner; her new house was just her house. Her first week at Lianne's house passed into her second and then suddenly she had been there for a month. It was fun, in away. But at the same time . . . it just wasn't home.

* * *

_A/N: This was kind of a big chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will hopefully be posted soon. Happy July 4th everybody! : )_


	7. Chapter 7

"You're so _boring_ now," Amy had complained. Apparently the emotional turmoil that had rooted itself within Marlie when her entire life had come apart at the seams made her boring, and her friends had nearly dragged her to the party at Julie Black's house.

She hadn't wanted to go, not really, but as those sorts of thing go, she was happy once she arrived. She had been so caught up in her own troubles for the past few months that she hadn't been paying much attention to anyone and it was good to rejoin the rest of the world. Marlie had never been a big partier, but with a father who wrote screenplays and best-selling books and was the son of a murdering actor, she was always invited to every 09er party.

Her mother had never liked that fact, but Marlie had never cared less in her life than she did now. And it was rather nice, really, getting to go to a party and not having Veronica around to give her yet another lecture on not accepting drinks from anyone and always keeping an eye open and taking that pepper spray I got you and this and that and this and that. . . .

Marlie was not stupid enough to get herself into whatever horrible thing Veronica was always so sure would happen.

The best part of the evening, however, was not the chance to get all of her family problems off her mind or getting to catch up with her friends or not having Veronica around to ruin the night. No, the best part was Sam Winters. He had moved to Neptune the previous year and was put in Marlie's trig class. She had fallen for him immediately.

She had dated boys before; she had even come close to having a serious boyfriend, but Logan Echolls had nipped that one in the bud before anything really came of the relationship. But something was different about Sam. Most of the boys at Neptune who were good-looking were also complete idiots or complete jerks. Sam was _perfect_ as far as looks went and he was smart _and _sweet.

She had found herself shy around him, something she hadn't thought possible considering her parents were the least shy people ever. Now, though, Marlie wondered: was shyness genetic? And did that mean that maybe Lianne was shy? Was that why Marlie was shy? But she wasn't really shy . . . just around Sam Winters.

"Sam's looking at you again," Amy murmured, her voice both delighted and teasing. Marlie only shushed her.

"Don't let him catch you staring at him, then!" she said, blushing and hoping people assumed it was from the heat of the crowded room. She had bumped into Sam at the start of the night and they'd talked briefly. It was the first time they'd really spoken outside of school. And though they'd gone off in different directions, he'd been staring at her all night. Marlie was _thrilled._

It was nice to feel normal again.

A little past midnight he finally approached her again. "Hey Marlie," he greeted, smiling. He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. She had blue eyes and she'd always liked them, but her eyes had nothing on his. Nothing.

"Hi Sam," she said, smiling and trying hard not to blush.

"Tim and Riley are both too drunk so I'm giving them rides home," he told her, "but I was kind of hoping I could ask you something before I go."

"What's that?" she asked casually, her heart hammering.

"You got a boyfriend?" The way his blue eyes seemed to smile at her only made her heart beat faster.

"Nah," she answered, painfully maintaining the casualness of the conversation. "Why?" she continued, biting back her nervousness as she added playfully, "Interested?"

He leaned close to her and pressed a kiss on her cheek, murmuring into her ear so closely that she could feel his warm breath, _"Definitely."_

When she arrived back at Lianne's a few hours later with Amy, she had been all giggles. He had left her a moment after that one whispered word, and the rest of the night had been a blur. She was sure it was only a matter of time before they went out.

Staring at the darkness of the living room, a part of Marlie's good mood evaporated as thoughts of her family and her new, upside-down life flushed through her once more. She wondered what it would have been like to come home to Veronica and Logan after that party. They would have both still been awake to assure that she was still alive and all in one piece.

_"It's a little late, isn't it?_" Veronica would ask while Logan would frown, perhaps saying softly, "_How was it?_" They would stare at her with a mixture of suspicion and fear, as if she were going to tell them something terrible. Maybe they wouldn't care _that _much, or maybe her dad wouldn't, because he usually wasn't _too_ bad, but maybe. . . .

It didn't matter. No one was awake now.

A part of her was happy about that. She was responsible. She wasn't going to get herself killed at some party. She went up to her room, got ready for bed, and fell onto the mattress thinking to herself that it was nice living with an adult who trusted her.

But was it wrong that a part of her was a little sad, too?

The next afternoon Marlie picked Ben and Jason up from school. She called her mom on the way and asked permission. Veronica had given it in a clipped tone. Marlie had tried not to care; she took Ben and Jason to ice cream. It didn't go well. They were in such a good mood, so happy to get ice cream and see her, but they couldn't stop asking again and again, _"When are you coming home?"_

* * *

"How about Katherine?" suggested Logan, "Katie, for short?"

Veronica didn't reply.

"Katie Echolls. That's cute. What do you think? Veronica?"

"Hmm?" Veronica asked, looking at him rather distractedly.

Logan sighed and Veronica realized he was probably annoyed with her. They were sitting in the living room trying to make some crucial decisions concerning the baby, as she was now more than eight months along, but she couldn't help but be distracted. All she could think about was Marlie. It had been weeks since her daughter had left her.

Had _left_ her.

How could she do that? She had told Veronica that it was what she deserved, that if Veronica were in her place, she'd want the same thing. But that wasn't true! Back in high school Veronica hadn't demanded to move in with Jake Kane! She had loved her father no matter what, even if he wasn't her real father. Because . . . because he _was_ her real father, biological or not.

Was it wrong for her to want Marlie to feel the same way concerning her?

_"Veronica!"_

Veronica's eyes snapped back to Logan's face. She had gotten distracted again. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm just. . . ."

"Thinking about Marlie?" Logan finished for her knowingly.

"Is that a crime?" Veronica snapped. Logan chuckled softly, looking away. Veronica immediately felt bad. Logan had been nothing but good to her these last few months. She knew everything with Marlie was killing him, but he had stood by her. And during that one fight . . . well, he hadn't exactly been right, had he? She'd talked to Marlie, and nothing good had come of it. Still, he was trying.

"Not Katie," Veronica told him. "It's too common."

"Jason and Ben are common names," Logan pointed out. "You didn't have a problem with them."

"Veronica and Marlene aren't common names," Veronica countered.

"Sweetie, honey, darling, dear," he said, leaning towards her as if about to tell a great secret, "you didn't pick either of those names."

Veronica snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically and telling him breezily, "Psh, _details._" He only shook his head, smiling, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaning back in his seat.

"So do you have any not _common_ suggestions?" he asked lazily.

"I want Alicia to be the middle name," Veronica told him.

"Shocker," he replied. She frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means Marlene _Mackenzie_ and Jason _Wallace_ and Benjamin _Keith_ have set a, what's the word now? _Precedent._ Middle names chosen after loved ones is your specialty, sugarpuss," he said.

"And once again, I repeat: is that a crime?" she asked, this time with a teasing note in her voice.

"Of course not. But why not use names of loved ones for first names, too? How about we have another Veronica? Because God knows we need another Veronica," he told her, all seriousness. "We can call her Little V. She'll be inspiring hatred left and right."

Veronica made a cutesy face at him. "Yeah, hon, that sounds great. We'll call her twin brother Little Logan."

"But now that might get confusing for you," he said, clucking his tongue. "There's already a Little Logan in your life, Missy. He caused your current state, in case you've forgotten."

"You mean this?" she asked, indicating her balloon of a stomach. "How do you know he did that?" she questioned conversationally.

"He better have," Logan replied with a slight growl. Veronica only laughed.

"But of course Little Logan isn't a part of my life right now," she went on, "considering I'm a ways into my third trimester."

"Little Logan can wait," he replied smoothly.

"See, now, I've heard differently before. . . ."

When Ben came into the room and found them kissing, he made a face. "Ew, stop it!" he protested. "Cooties are contagious!" he exclaimed.

As they separated, Veronica told him, mockingly outraged, "You can't get cooties from your parents!"

"Yeah, you can!" he told her earnestly. "Hannah _says so!_"

"Hannah says so?" repeated Logan, his voice in awe.

"Yeah!" Ben assured.

"Wait a minute," said Veronica, "how do you know Hannah didn't give you cooties?"

"'Cause she gave me the cootie shot so we could be friends, Mommy, _duh_," he answered.

"Well maybe you should have the cootie shot again," Logan told him, "so that you can be friends with us, too."

"We've already had the cootie shot," Veronica added. "Twice, in fact. So we're _extra_ protected."

"You don't need it twice," Ben told them matter-of-factly.

"Did Hannah say that?" asked Logan. "I bet it's just because she hasn't had it twice." Veronica nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Ben seemed to consider, and after a moment he marched up to his mother and stuck his arm out to her.

"Do it," he told her bravely.

"Magic word?" she asked. "These things aren't easy, you know."

"Please do it?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Okay," Veronica nodded solemnly, taking his arm in her hands, "Circle, circle, dot, dot," she said, tracing the shapes on his arm, "now you've got your cootie shot. Circle, circle, square, square, now you've got it _everywhere_."

"Thanks!" Ben said cheerfully.

"You're very welcome," Veronica replied, smiling at him as he skipped out of the room again, probably already having forgotten why he came downstairs in the first place. As she watched him go, though, she couldn't help but think of the last time she'd administered the cootie shot. It hadn't been for Jason. He'd never been too concerned about cooties.

It had been for Marlie.

That seemed so long ago. It was so long ago.

"We can get a list of celebrities' names for children. There would be some less than boring ones for you," Logan suggested, drawing Veronica away from her nostalgic thoughts.

"Sure, sure, little Tangerine Echolls will get along with the other kids really well."

"Which celebrity named her kid Tangerine?"

"I don't know; I'm sure one of them has," Veronica told him. "Besides, we can't be complete copy cats and call her Apple, can we?"

"Good point."

There was a soft moment of silence. Veronica's thoughts started to wander. . . . She had given Marlie everything. She had told her enough about her own past to keep Marlie from the same horrors but she hadn't told her enough to jade her. She had always made sure she knew she was loved and cared for and . . . and it hadn't been good enough.

"You could always talk to her," Logan said. It took Veronica a moment to pull herself away from her thoughts and process what he said. "There's so much she doesn't know, Veronica. She doesn't know about Lianne leaving you the first time and —"

"We've told her," Veronica interrupted. "And we already had this conversation."

"We've told her but we haven't explained anything. She's old enough to hear it. To hear all of it."

"Oh, is that so?" Veronica asked angrily. "Should we tell her about you smashing in my headlights? Should we tell her about that whole little rape thing? She would —?"

"Don't do that," he cut her off. She looked away from his gaze. It wasn't as simple as he made it out to be. "She can't understand what she doesn't know. She's only a kid."

"I dealt with paternity issues when _I_ was a kid," Veronica countered.

"Do you really want Marlie to have to deal with all the things you dealt with?" Veronica didn't reply. She didn't have to. He was right: she would never want Marlie to deal with any of the things she herself had faced. But. . . .

"If you don't want to talk to her about it," Logan finally went on, his voice soft, "can you talk to me about it?" Veronica frowned, looking at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . do you know . . . do you know who her biological father is?" He was staring at the far wall.

"I told you that —"

"I know you don't know for sure, but I also know you have a guess," he said, looking at her again. "We have to know, Veronica. If Lianne is back, what if the father shows up, too? What if I lose my rights to her?"

"That would never happen!" Veronica protested, alarmed at the thought.

"When you adopted Marlie you had to terminate Lianne's rights to her, didn't you?" he asked knowingly. "But you never did that for whoever the unknown father was, did you?"

Veronica was silent for a minute. "I think . . . I think it's Jake Kane." She'd never said that aloud before. "He's her greatest weakness." Logan didn't have a response. "So . . . Tangerine? Or Clementine?" Veronica asked, giving a weak smile. She hoped Logan would accept the subject change; she couldn't stand to talk about it all for another minute.

"Well," Logan said, wrapping an arm around her, "whatever we name her, she's going to know we love her."

"Not if we name her Tangerine, she won't," Veronica told him.

"No, she'll know," he insisted, leaning close and murmuring, "the same way _she_ knows."

* * *

"_I did it," Veronica declared._

_Logan looked up from the box he had just finished packing. "You did what?" he asked. She didn't answer. Her eyes were scanning the Grand, which was currently filled to the brim with haphazard stacks of all his worldly possessions and boxes, some empty, some full, and some on their way from empty to full._

"_Are you going somewhere?" she asked him, frowning slightly. _

"_I'm moving out of the Grand," he told her._

"_And going where?" she insisted. How come he hadn't told her about this?_

"_I bought a house. It'll be cheaper in the long run and it's closer to the beach," he said._

"_You bought a beach house?" she asked. She really should have known about this._

"_You could call it that," he answered, and his voice had taken on a tone of wariness, as if he could sense that she was not pleased with what he was saying._

"_And when did you buy this house?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest._

"_Well, officer, I signed the papers last Saturday. I started searching for houses over two months ago, though, and I promise I've been thinking about this for a long time. And as for the time of the murder, I was at the Wal-Mart so my alibi is air tight."_

"_Why are you joking about this?" Veronica exclaimed. "You bought a _house_, Logan!"_

"_Yeah, ah, I just told you that, so if I'm supposed to be surprised —"_

"_How could you buy a house and not tell me?" she went on as if he hadn't spoken. "This is the sort of thing you tell me, Logan! I'm your girlfriend!"_

"_I just did tell you!" he said._

"_You should have told me _before_ you bought the house!" she snapped._

"_I wanted it to be a surprise!" he finally yelled. "I wanted to get partially moved in and take you there on Sunday night and show it to you. Is that really so horrible? Can't I try and surprise my girlfriend?" She didn't say anything immediately and he took the chance to get everything out._

"_Look, I can't live in the Grand anymore. It's a waste of money and it's . . . I want a real home. School is out and I have nothing to do this summer. I figured this would be a good time to settle into a real house. When junior year starts up in a few months I'll be all ready. I bought the house on the up and up; I did the hunting for it myself and everything. You have nothing to be angry about."_

"_You bought a house," she said, sighing. He nodded. "I'm sorry I got a little . . . _upset_," she told him, "I just . . . I like being in on big changes in your life."_

"_Understandable," he said. "But like I said: it was supposed to be a surprise, Veronica."_

"_Okay," she swallowed, nodding._

"_Okay," he agreed. It was awkwardly quiet for a moment. "So . . . what did you do?" he finally prompted._

_She frowned. "What?"_

"_When you came in here just earlier," he said, "you said —"_

"_Oh, right, yeah, I officially adopted Marlie. I signed the papers and everything."_

"_That's great!" Logan exclaimed, smiling._

_Veronica returned the smile. "It's weird. She's been ours all along, really, all these months, but now it's official. If Lianne ever does come back, she can't take her away. Marlie's ours."_

"_Do you think . . . do you think she ever will? Come back, I mean?"_

_Veronica looked away before she answered. "Probably not," she said. "I think she would have come back by now if she were planning on it. If she does come back it'll be because she needs money or something." Logan nodded in understanding and it was quiet for a moment again._

"_So," he said as she began to pick through his stuff and he started packing up again, "are you her actual legal guardian or did you work out everything with your dad?"_

"_I'm her actual legal guardian," Veronica answered. "It's okay, really. Dad will help me raise her no matter what. And, honestly . . . after I graduate and I'm living on my own I'll probably — I think I — I'll want Marlie with me. So it makes sense."_

_They had intended to have Keith adopt Marlie. He had been more than willing and Alicia had understood as well. But it wasn't that easy. Keith wasn't exactly rolling in the cash, he didn't have a lifestyle conducive to children — according to the government, anyway — and he would be a single father who wasn't a relative of the child._

_But Veronica was a relative. Even if she was much less qualified to take on the legal guardianship of a child, she was the one who could, with a simple signature, make Marlie her own. It had taken a lot of research and a lot of time with Cliff, but this was what they had finally settled on. Veronica would be Marlie's legal guardian, plain and simple._

"_What are you thinking about?" asked Logan, taping shut a box and pushing it aside as he grabbed an empty one with which to start fresh._

"_What I've gotten myself into," Veronica admitted honestly. "I can't believe I'm responsible for a kid now. . . . I'm not even twenty-one years old yet."_

"_You've been taking care of her for months," Logan said. "It's not like anything's really changed, right?"_

"_I know," she said, shrugging slightly. "Still, it's . . . it's weird." He nodded. "I guess I'll never get to go wild in college, huh?" She gave a small smile._

"_Well, let's see," Logan said, standing up and starting to tick off fingers. "You spent some time in prison, you got to know all the boys in a Frat house, oh, and there was that whole sex tape thing, too." He smirked at her._

"_Point made," she told him, rolling her eyes. He watched her for a minute but she didn't meet his gaze as she started to fold clothing to put in a box. So much had changed for her and for them in the last few months. She felt she knew him better than ever before. For the first time he was truly involved in her life. He knew her father so well it was sometimes annoying: they had their own running jokes now, to her outrage. He even had dinner at their house two or three times a week. He had actually started spending time with Wallace _without_ Veronica, and he probably saw as much of Marlie as Veronica did._

_All of a sudden she felt his arms wrap around her as he came to stand behind her. "I love you," he murmured._

"_You better," she replied, so proud of herself for not shrinking from those words the way she once had. There were not many people Veronica could count on in her life; in fact, there were not many people Veronica even _liked_ in her life, but she had long ago accepted that in addition to her dad, Wallace, and Mac, Logan was one of those people too._

_It certainly took her long enough._

"_And I was thinking," he went on._

"_Thinking?" she repeated. "Was it hard?"_

"_Actually, it wasn't so bad," he replied. "I might have been avoiding it all these years for no reason. Crazy, isn't it?"_

"_Very," she agreed._

"_So, anyway," he continued, "I was thinking about Marlie and you . . . and me, and I sort of have an idea."_

"_You _sort of_ have an idea? What does that mean?"_

"_It means I've been thinking about this for a long time but I'm still not sure how you're going to take it. I'm going to say it, though. But don't get all worked up. Don't run away or anything."_

_She turned around, slightly concerned. What was he getting at? "I'm not going to run away. . . ."_

"_I know you," he said, "and you're going to want to flee the moment I say it."_

"_Then should you really say it?" she asked, wondering suddenly if he was going to ask her to marry him. Oh, God. That was it. He was about to ask her to marry him. She couldn't believe this. Things had been going well, yes, but marriage? They were way too young to be married!_

"_Veronica," he began, "how would you like to —?"_

"_No," she said, walking away from him and starting in on another box. They weren't even going to have this conversation. "It's not a good idea, Logan. It's not. It's too soon. We're too young."_

"_You haven't even heard it yet!" he protested._

"_I know what you're going to say and the answer is no."_

"_So you're not even going to hear me out?" he asked. She paused, taking her time._

"_No."_

"_Veronica, just listen!"_

"_No."_

_When he opened his mouth to say something more she started for the bedroom. She could not have this conversation. How could he even bring it up? He had to know she would react this way; he _had_ to. He followed after her._

"_It's not like I'm asking you to marry me or anything!" he yelled. She stopped walking away and turned to face him with a frown. "What?" he said, obviously frustrated._

"_You're . . . you're not?"_

_He stared. "You thought I was asking you to marry me?" He looked so incredulous that she felt herself starting to blush. It hadn't been _that_ crazy of a thought, had it?_

"_Well . . . yes!" she admitted, feeling suddenly defensive._

"_Veronica, much as I would like to marry you, we're still in college. And there is no way either of us is ready to be married."_

"_I know," she said, "obviously."_

"_And I know that you know," he told her. "I wasn't planning on asking you to marry me. And, trust me, if I were, it wouldn't have been like this. Give me some credit, will you?"_

"_But then what were you . . . ?"_

"_I wanted to know if you wanted to _move in _with me," he told her. She couldn't believe she hadn't guessed that. Of course he would think that; he had bought a house. Why wouldn't he want her and Marlie to move in with him?_

"_Logan," she said slowly, "I don't think that's such a good idea either. . . ."_

"_Why not?" he immediately demanded. "That way you and Marlie would be out of your dad's hair so he could spend some actual quality time with Alicia, and if Mrs. Navarro comes to work for me she can look after Marlie when we both have classes."_

_He made good points, but still. . . ._

"_Do you really think we're ready to move in together?" she asked him. "And do you really think you could handle Marlie all day, every day?"_

"_I spend nearly all day, every day with Marlie as it is," he replied, not even batting an eyelash. "And as for me and you . . . yeah, I do think we're ready. I want this, Veronica, and it's smart, too. You can't live with your dad forever. He has his own life. Besides, if you and Marlie don't move in with me then Mrs. Navarro will have to keep cleaning your apartment and I have to go find a new cleaning lady for the beach house and, let me tell you, hiring help is _not_ one of my many strong points."_

"_But I really don't think. . . ."_

"_Just think about it, okay?" he asked. "It's an open-ended offer. Anytime you want to move in with me, you're welcome to. And if it helps, I took cooking classes. That was part of the surprise. I'll still cook you dinner when I show you the house, but it's not going to be a surprise anymore, obviously."_

"_You . . . you took cooking classes?"_

_He nodded. "If I decide to sign up for glass-blowing classes, strap me to some train tracks, please."_

"_So you bought a house and took cooking classes and . . . is there anything else I don't know?" She didn't expect there to be more. There was more._

"_Your dad thinks it's a good idea, which actually surprised me because I thought he would —"_

"_You talked to my _dad_ about this?!"_

_He only grinned at her. "Just think about it. Take however long you need. When you want to move in with me, I'll be waiting." Veronica nodded. There wasn't anything else to say._

_The rest of the summer passed slowly, and though she helped him pick out furniture for his new house, helped him christen every room, and even helped him sharpen his surprisingly _not_ bad cooking skills, he didn't bring up moving in with him again until the summer was coming to an end._

_She still said no; he still told her to think on it. Junior year began and everything was routine. Marlie even started talking, much to Veronica's delight. It was around Christmas when it happened. Logan was over at the apartment playing on the ground with Marlie while Veronica made dinner and Keith read the mail._

_She blamed it on Keith constantly asking Veronica, "Who's your daddy?" But she never did understand how Marlie made the mistake. A part of her wondered if maybe Logan had . . . but he never admitted to it. She had read that children usually say particular words because parents encourage the sound, and no one, as far as Veronica knew, had encouraged Marlie to make that particular sound to that particular person._

_But she did._

_Logan got up to look at something in _Sports Illustrated_ that Keith wanted to show him. Logan had gotten Keith the subscription for his birthday, and Veronica secretly loved watching the two most important men in her life bond over it even though she had never really pinned either of them as a sports lover._

_Marlie did not enjoy the loss of attention, however. She started to pout. No one noticed. She reached out her chubby little arms, whining in the back of her throat. No one noticed. She wiggled, kicking a Barbie with her foot. No one noticed._

"_Da!" she shouted._

_Everyone noticed._

"_What did she just say?" asked Logan._

"_Who was she talking to?" asked Keith._

_Veronica went over and picked her up. That wasn't good enough for Marlie. She wiggled in Veronica's arms, still reaching her tiny hands out and repeating insistently, "Da!" It was clear she was talking to Logan._

_Veronica and Marlie moved into Logan's house a month later._

* * *

"Could I ask you something?" she began hesitantly one night. She had been growing more and more curious, and she couldn't help herself any longer.

"Of course, honey," Lianne answered, smiling as she took a sip of sparkling cider. Dinner tonight was as fancy as it always was; Lianne didn't work, and it afforded her plenty of free time. Marlie wondered how she had gotten the money, but it wasn't what she wanted to know most of all.

"Why did you leave my father?"

Lianne froze, and Marlie was irresistibly reminded of the way Veronica had frozen all those months ago when Marlie had brought up the topic of sisters. "Your father," Lianne repeated slowly.

"Yeah," Marlie nodded. "I just wanted to know . . . something about him, is all."

Lianne slowly put down her knife and fork. "His name was Craig Olsen," Lianne began. "I dated him in college. At the time I had just broken up with my high school boyfriend and I was upset . . . I was a mess, really. Craig made me forget about, well, _everything_. He wasn't good for me, though; he drank a lot and he was failing out of school. . . ."

There was silence for a minute, but Marlie was too afraid to break the flow of information by saying anything. It was just a pause; any moment Lianne would go on. . . .

"I left him for Keith," Lianne continued at last, to Marlie's relief. "Keith was . . . he was the perfect man," she finished, smiling warmly and finally let her gaze land on Marlie. "But you know that. I'm sure you love him very much."

"I do," Marlie admitted quietly.

"I messed up that, though, as you know. After I was on my own again . . . around the time Veronica graduated from high school, I . . . I ran into Craig again. He had just gotten divorced, too, and he was so. . . . He made me forget, just like before. It was weak and it was wrong, but I was weak and I had done a lot of wrong, too, so. . . ."

Slowly, Lianne began eating again. Marlie waited for more. There had to be more. There _had_ to be. "I moved in with him," Lianne said after a few minutes. Marlie nodded, desperate to hear the rest. "He hadn't been drinking for years and he had a steady job and he was . . . he offered the comfort and security I had missed for so long. He listened to me when I talked about how much I missed Veronica and he . . . he could be really sweet, your father."

She swallowed the rest of her meat loaf and took a long sip of cider. Marlie opened her mouth to ask for more, to ask about Lianne getting pregnant, but she didn't have to. Once again, slowly, softly, Lianne went on.

"But it turned out that he was with me for the money I had," she said, so quietly that Marlie had to strain to hear her. A voice in her head, one that sounded suspiciously like Veronica, murmured darkly, _Money you stole from Keith and Veronica_. Marlie ignored the voice.

"He started drinking again and . . . and when I found out I was pregnant, I was afraid. I didn't want him to _hurt_ the baby — hurt _you_ — the way he had hurt me." Lianne was staring determinedly at the table cloth. It took Marlie a moment to process what she had just been told.

"He . . ._ hurt_ you?" Marlie whispered. Lianne looked up from the table with wet lashes.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she assured, forcing a smile as she reached out and grabbed Marlie's hand in her own. "I left him and I ended up with Keith and Veronica, and they took care of both of us. I wasn't very strong, but I was strong enough to get you away from him."

Marlie had meant to ask more. She had meant to ask if her father had known about her; she had intended to ask where he was now. She had wanted to ask why Lianne had left her; she had wondered if Lianne had gone back to her father after leaving Marlie with Keith and Veronica. But the news that her father, her biological father, had hurt her mother. . . .

"It's okay," Marlie said, smiling at Lianne. "I understand."

The rest of dinner passed in silence.

As she lay in bed that night, she grew angry. Veronica had always spoken ill of Lianne, but she had no idea what Lianne had been through! Had she even thought to ask, when Lianne was pregnant, about the father? Had she wondered why Lianne had run to them scared and alone? _Probably not_, Marlie thought viciously.

What kept her awake more than her anger, however, was her horror. Her father, her own flesh and blood, the man from whom she had come, had. . . . It was impossible. It had to be. She tried to imagine what he looked like. Everything her mind conjured was . . . unpleasant, to say the least.

It was 12:17 when Marlie called him on his cell. His voicemail picked up. She listened to his peppy little message, wondering if she should hang up. But she couldn't. When the beep sounded, she let out a deep breath.

"It's me," she said. "I'm just calling to say . . . I don't know. I just wanted to talk to you or something, I guess. I shouldn't have called. Never mind." She was silent for a minute, feeling like an idiot. But before she hung up the phone, ending the inane message, she whispered tearfully, "I love you, Daddy."

Because he was her father; he _was._ She was Marlie Echolls, and Logan Echolls was, always had been, and always would be her father, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was sort of Daddy-orientated and I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry it took a little longer to post. My sister set up a new firewall on my laptop and it messed up all of my documents! I was lucky enough to save this story, but it had all sorts of spacing issues I had to work out before I could post. Hopefully now I'll be able to get the last few chapters up at a chapter-a-day pace. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

Wallace had done some pretty stupid shit in his life.

The first thing that came to mind, of course, was the time he had been so desperate to succeed he'd cheated on a test. And who had made him feel better after that whole debacle? Veronica. It shouldn't be surprising, really; she was his best friend. Sometimes he forgot, though, why she was such a big part of his life.

And then he would be reminded during simple moment like the time she said breezily, so very confident and assured of her words, that _"you're the good Wallace."_ She wasn't disappointed in him or upset. That confidence didn't exactly fix everything, but it certainly made everything a hell of a lot easier to handle.

He was beginning to think now that perhaps he had made another mistake, but this time Veronica wasn't going to brush that mistake aside. Because she was suffering from that mistake . . . if it was a mistake; he still wasn't so sure. He had understood Marlie's need to get to know Lianne; it wasn't wrong of her. He had felt the exact same once upon a time. He knew she wasn't just trying to hurt her mom, just as he hadn't simply meant to hurt _his_ mom by leaving with Nathan all those years ago.

But that didn't mean Veronica wasn't hurt nonetheless. She tried to hide it by means of all her usual weapons: giving snapping, snarky comments, abruptly changing the subject, throwing herself into her work, and pretending absolutely nothing bothered her. It was an art she had perfected all those years ago to go along with her butch boots and taser.

Wallace Fennel was no fool.

There was nothing he could really say to comfort her that he hadn't already said, that Logan and Keith and Mac hadn't all already said. There was nothing he could do, either; he had no more power over Marlie's decision than anyone else. And usually he was okay with that. He had, after all, encouraged Marlie to get to know Lianne . . . in a way.

Whenever he saw Veronica staring off into space, however, her face cold, her eyes glazed, and her mouth a thin line, he doubted his encouragement. Would it have been better for everyone involved to have told Marlie that he regretted going to live with Nathan and that he should have stayed with his mom and brother and she should learn from his mistake?

He couldn't decide.

It would have been easier to know if he knew how Marlie was faring. Did she like living with Lianne? Had she made the change easily? Did she miss her parents? Did she talk to them very often? (He could never get any answers out of Veronica.) Did she regret her decision to live with Lianne? He had no idea. He hadn't seen or heard from her since she'd made the move.

Was she okay?

On Thursday morning, Wallace determinedly dialed the number he had found for Lianne Mars. Neptune students had Friday off and he was banking on Marlie not having made plans yet. Would she be interested in a day spent with him? He could find out how everything was going, what she was really feeling. . . .

"Hello?" Lianne answered, sounding slightly panicked. At least, he thought it was Lianne. He had never actually met her.

"Hi, this is Marlie's Uncle Wallace. Could I talk to her?" he asked.

"Ah, no, no you can't. . . ." Before Wallace could protest, she added softly, "She's not here."

Wallace frowned. It was seven in the morning. Where else would the girl be? "What do you mean she's not there?" he asked. "Did she leave for school already?"

"No . . . she didn't come home last night."

Wallace called Veronica then, and that was when he got the whole story.

* * *

The party took place on the beach.

Marlie spent nearly two hours getting ready with her friends beforehand. Lianne had been all smiles, obviously happy that Marlie was happy. The older woman didn't even care that it was a Wednesday and therefore a school night.

And then Sam had come to pick her up. He had come over to her house, had made nice with Lianne, and was driving Marlie to the party. It was a date. While she would have preferred their first date to be a little more . . . _personal_, she didn't really care. This was more relaxed, anyway.

"So that woman wasn't your mother, was she?" he asked her when they first got into the car. She had introduced Lianne simply as Lianne. He must have noticed the look on her face, because he added hastily, "I just mean that I thought your mom was Veronica Echolls."

"She . . . she is," Marlie answered. "Lianne is also my mom, though. It's complicated." Thankfully, he asked nothing more, only gave her an understanding smile.

But then, as he punched the radio on and commented on how much he liked the song that was playing, Marlie suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to say something, to say everything. "I just found out, actually," she told him.

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding interested but not about to press her. She liked that.

"I always thought Veronica was my mom. But then I found out she was really my sister. My real mom was the same as hers, was Lianne. But Lianne hadn't been able to raise me so Veronica did."

"That's . . . kind of crazy," he said slowly.

"Tell me about it," she murmured. She caught him looking at her. "Eyes on the road, buddy," she teased. He smiled and looked back out the windshield. She grinned to herself.

A few minutes later he started talking, his voice smooth and perfect, and he spent the rest of the care ride telling her a story about his lab digging up his mother's rose garden that afternoon, and he had her laughing so hard she was crying by the time they arrived at the beach.

She talked with his friends, most of whom she had known for years, and at one point he put his arm over her shoulder. She was delighted. They both got drinks from the keg, and though she thought it had a little too much of a kick to it, it didn't matter; she didn't take more than a few sips. He was certainly drinking a lot, but he looked as if he could handle it.

"Are you having fun?" he asked her at one point. He was leaning down towards her as he spoke, and she could feel his breath warm on her face, making it all the better of a moment. She nodded, smiling.

"Of course."

"You want something a little stronger to drink?" he offered, his voice lower, and he flashed her a flask from his pocket. Veronica Echolls would have been proud at that moment, because her voice managed to worm its way into Marlie's thoughts. "_And never, under any circumstance whatsoever, take a drink from someone else. It doesn't matter if it's your BFF. You get your own drinks, always."_

Why was she thinking of her mother at that moment?

She brushed all thoughts of her mother aside, but she still shook her head at his offer. "I'm good, thanks," she told him, smiling again. He nodded in understanding and then drained the rest of his cup before proceeding to refill it with the drink in the flask.

Marlie glanced over and Amy caught her eye. 'How's it going?' Amy mouthed. Marlie gave her a large grin and Amy mimed clapping in excitement. Marlie was chuckling softly as she turned her attention back to Sam and his friends. An hour later, however, and she was starting to get a little bored. His friends were all getting wasted and it had long since passed amusing and was now annoying.

"You want to go somewhere else?" Sam asked, noticing her slow change of mood. "We can talk or something. We really haven't had a chance to talk yet."

"I'd love to, actually," she said.

He grabbed her hand. "C'mon, we can walk down along the beach. Nobody'll be over on Dog Beach this time of night. Hopefully." He made a face, she laughed, and off they went.

"So what do you think of Neptune?" she asked him as the sounds of the party started to fade. They walked hand in hand, and she felt herself pretty in the blue dress Amy had helped her pick out and her favorite little purse tucked beneath her arm. "I mean, I know you've lived here for a year now, but still. How's it compare to the rest of the world?"

"Better parties here," he answered. "And better girls." She nearly melted under his gaze. "But I still miss Chicago a little bit, too. There was a lot more to do there. But you haven't lived here your whole life, either, have you?"

"No," she said. "We used to visit all the time because my parents grew up here, but we didn't move here until five years ago when my mom had my little brother Ben. I have such a bad memory, though," she joked, "I might as well have lived here my whole life." He chuckled and there was a brief moment of silence.

"So, what's with your name?" he finally asked.

"It's short for Marlene. I think my dad came up with it. The nickname, I mean." He nodded but didn't say anything. He had stopped walking and turned to face her.

"Do you like it?" he finally asked. "Or do your prefer Marlene?"

She shrugged. "I don't mind it — Marlie. It's my name, you know? I've always been Marlie. It's a little weird when people call me Marlene."

"Well, Marlie," he said slowly, grabbing her left hand so that he gripped both her hands now. He stepped closer. Her heart suddenly started racing. She had been kissed before, but she already knew his kiss would be better. He leaned down. She started to lean up. His eyes were on her lips. She closed her eyes.

It was a good kiss. It was an amazing kiss. She opened her mouth to his and let him wrap his arms warmly around her back, pulling her to him. It was perfect. There was nothing else in the world but him and her and the waves crashing softly on the short a few feet away.

And then it spiraled out of control.

* * *

Eli Navarro stepped out of his truck, sighing. Before he slammed the door shut, he looked back at the passenger seat and the yellow lab that sat happily panting. "You coming or what?" he asked the dog. The large animal, understanding, scrambled across the seats and jumped out of the truck before allowing Weevil to clamp a leash down on him.

"Let's go," Weevil muttered and they started across the beach. Sometimes he couldn't believe this had become his life. He got in a fight with Rachel and blew off steam by walking his Labrador dog on the beach. Who did that?

And who had a lab for a dog? Of all the animals, Rachel had to choose that one. "They're so playful, Eli," she told him, smiling with those big blue eyes. Those would be the death of him. He always went for the girls who had big blue eyes. He snorted to himself. It could have been worse: the woman could have pleaded for a Chihuahua or poodle or some other white plaything.

Of course, Rachel might have blue eyes, but she also had brown hair. Blondes were too much work for Weevil. Not that Rachel wasn't work; the day Weevil had actually married her he had been setting himself up for a lifetime of Labrador puppies and manipulative blue eyes and leaving after a fight to walk on the beach rather than go to a bar or something any sane man would do.

It's not like that would change anytime soon. Rachel was pregnant. Weevil wasn't going anywhere now; she officially had him for good. Even as he thought it, Callie tugged on her leash so suddenly that a distracted Weevil didn't stand a chance: the leash slipped through his fingers and Callie was off, barking as she raced across the beach. "Hey! Get back here!" Weevil shouted.

Groaning to himself, he started after the dumb dog. He didn't have to run too far, however, because Callie had reached her destination and stood happily with Marlie Echolls. Weevil slowed. He was pretty sure it was her. He hadn't seen her in a long time, but he could probably recognize Veronica's Mini-Me anywhere. But what the hell was she doing on Dog Beach at this time of night?

"Marlie?" he asked as he came closer. It was definitely her. And she was crying. Her make-up ran down her face and . . . and her shirt was ripped. Weevil saw red for an instant, his mind reeling with sudden conclusions. "What's going on?"

"Hey Weevil," she greeted softly. "I — I was just at the party and . . . can you give me a ride home, please?"

"Did somebody hurt you?" Weevil asked darkly. "He still here?"

Marlie shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself and not even seeming to notice the eager dog that nudged at her legs. "Can you please give me a ride home? I don't . . . I need to go home."

Weevil didn't ask anymore questions. He never did. Those blue-eyed blondes always got to him. He nodded and led her back to his truck. She didn't meet his gaze as she climbed into the truck, but he saw her fingers curl into Callie's fur as they started out down the road.

He had talked to Veronica the other day when she'd called to congratulate him on the pregnancy. He didn't really know what was going on, but. . . . "Where you want to go?" he asked softly.

"Home," she repeated. "Home."

"Home it is," he told her and she mustered a small smile for him.

The rest of the ride was painfully silent. It wasn't the longest drive in the world, but it was long enough. Weevil found himself hoping Rachel didn't have a girl. He couldn't handle the things people do to sweet little girls. He pulled his truck into the big-ass house Logan Echolls had bought and put it into park. But Marlie didn't make a move to leave. Weevil frowned. "I thought you meant —?"

"I did mean here," Marlie murmured. "But I just realized I . . . I can't go in that house." He didn't know what to say. "Ah, I guess can you just . . . can you take me to, um, this house up on . . . it's kind of far away, but I can't go in there and see my parents."

"Look, girl, I don't know what's going on with you and your mom," he began hesitantly, "but V will want to know what happened. She'll want to help you."

"You don't understand," Marlie told him. "My mom always warned me and she'll . . . she knew something like this would happen and I didn't listen to her and . . . I can't face her."

Weevil didn't know much, but he knew enough to know Marlie was wrong. He could drive her back to where ever she was staying now with the woman Veronica had sneered about over the phone. Or he could honk his horn. Loudly.

He did.

"What are you doing?" Marlie asked him. He couldn't read her expression through the dark.

"Waking someone up," he replied, slamming his palm on the horn and letting it blare through the night. A light turned on in a room on the second floor of the house. Marlie suddenly started swatting at her eyes, trying to wipe her running make-up with her hands. All she managed to do was smear mascara on her cheeks and her knuckles.

The porch lights turned on. Weevil started to get out of his truck. Marlie didn't move.

Logan Echolls, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, opened the front door and stood squinting at the headlights of the truck. When Weevil stepped all the way out of the car, he saw recognition dawn on the white boy's face. Echolls started towards him.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted, not angry but clearly confused. Weevil looked back into the car at Marlie and saw her staring at her father.

"I got something for you," Weevil yelled back. Before he could say more, though, the other truck door opened and Marlie barreled out of it and at her father. The shocked man didn't hesitate in hugging his daughter as she sobbed into his shoulder but he looked over at Weevil as if for some sort of explanation. "Found her at the beach," Weevil said simply.

Echolls didn't seem to have a response, but Weevil gave him a small nod and then climbed back into his truck. He needed to go to his own home. He needed to see Rachel. Callie barked as they pulled out of the drive, bathing Marlie and her dad in darkness, but he only patted her head. "Good girl," he murmured. "Good girl."

* * *

Marlie barely knew how she got into the house. Her father lead her, probably half carried her, and before long she was on the couch in the living room, trying to stop crying. He hadn't asked her anything and she was glad for that. She had missed him so much and. . . .

"Who was it, Logan?" her mother asked. Marlie sat with her face pressed against her father's chest and she couldn't see her mom, but she heard when the woman whispered softly, _"Marlie. . . ."_

A moment later, small, soft hands were stroking her hair. "What happened?" her mom asked. She didn't say anything. "Baby," her mom whispered, and slowly she drew Marlie from her father's grasp. Marlie sat there, then, curled up against her dad with his arm around her shoulder while her mother knelt on the ground, her hair in a messy bun and her eyes large and searching as she brushed at Marlie's face.

"You've got a bruise forming on your neck," her mom said softly, her fingers dusting across the spot. Marlie swallowed thickly. There was no point in trying to deny anything.

"You know," she said, forcing herself to stop crying, "you know how you always used to stick pepper spray in my purse and every time I took it out you would put it back in until I finally gave up?" Marlie asked. Her mom nodded, not saying a word. "Well, it was still in there when I went to a party and . . . and Sam and I were kissing and then he — and I had to use it."

"You —you had to . . . did anything —?" her mom's voice had gotten very soft and it was clear she was at a loss for words.

"It worked," Marlie whispered. The tears began to well up in her eyes against her will as she remembered the whole series of events. Her face began to contort in an attempt to hold back the tears. It was a failed attempt.

"Come here," her mom murmured, and as Veronica sat on the couch, Marlie found herself hugging her mom, enveloped in the soft, sweet smell that was her mother, that was reassurance when the doctor put the needle to her arm and comfort when the nightmare was too real, that was so very much like home. "It's okay," her mom whispered, rocking slightly and stroking her hair as Marlie began to cry again. "It's okay. It's okay. I've got you. I'm here. Daddy's here. It's okay. It's okay."

"I'm sorry for — for everything," Marlie whispered, "and I . . . I —"

"Don't think about that now," her mom murmured, "it's okay." Her tears started to subside slightly and she said nothing more, letting herself melt into her mother. "Let it out. Cry it out. It's all okay. That's my girl," her mom said softly, her voice reassuring. "That's my baby."

* * *

_He had volunteered to get more beer. He couldn't believe they'd run out: as seniors in college, shouldn't they know how much beer they'd need? He was the only one who could really go out and get anything, though, as he was the only one still sober. It wasn't even that late at night! They were pathetic._

_He was in the grocery store right on the edge of the campus, trying to load the basket he'd gotten and wishing he'd chosen a cart instead when he saw her. She had cut her hair short, so short it didn't even brush her shoulders, and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans while she tried to choose between two different kinds of peanut butter._

_No one else was in the aisle. Unable to resist, he called out her name. "Veronica!"_

_She looked away from the peanut butter and he saw recognition quickly followed by shock dawn on her face. "Piz?" A smile split her face. He approached her, grinning. "Hey, I didn't know you were in town!" she said as glanced briefly back at what must have been her cart._

_"Yeah, I came home for winter break to see my parents and I thought I'd visit Neptune for the weekend to see Wallace and some of the boys. Hearst hasn't changed much."_

_"Yeah, no, it hasn't," she agreed, smiling. She looked much the same as she did years ago when he had known her, when he had dated her; she had the same sparkling blue eyes, dark make-up, and addictive smile. "How's the East coast?"_

_"Amazing!" he immediately assured. "I love it out there."_

_"Still in the radio biz?"_

_"Definitely," he nodded. "I already have a job starting in July for a local radio station."_

_"That's great, Piz," she told him, smiling widely, "that's really great."_

_"What about you?" he asked. He had heard tid-bits from Wallace, such as the fact that her mother had come home the summer after they'd broken up. But he didn't really know much; over the years Wallace had shared less and less._

_"I'm graduating, of course, and it's pretty open-ended after that," she answered. "I'm not sure what I'm doing."_

_"Think you might go into the FBI?"_

_She hesitated. "I . . . I really don't know. There's a lot of . . . factors, I guess." He nodded. He didn't know what that meant but he was sure whatever it was, she would figure it out. Uncertainty was one thing with which Veronica Mars did _not_ allow herself to be familiar._

_He opened his mouth to ask after her dad and Mac when someone shouted, "Ma! Cookies!" Veronica turned at the voice so Piz did as well. A little girl, probably about two, if Piz had to guess, was standing a few feet away holding up a package of Oreos as if it were the Holy Grail. "Cookies!" she repeated._

_"You don't need cookies," Veronica told her. Piz looked back and forth between Veronica and the little girl, confusion rising in him._

_"Yes cookies," the girl said._

_"No cookies," Veronica replied slowly. The girl ran up to Veronica, her shoes lighting up as she went._

_"Yes cookies," she insisted, holding them out to Veronica._

_"If you get those then they're your one pick. You only get one special Marlie food. Is that your special food?" The little girl nodded._

_"Yum cookies!"_

_Sharking her head softly, Veronica took the Oreos. "In five minutes when you want goldfish," she told the girl," remember this moment." The little girl didn't seem wary of the warning; she only smiled, her big blue eyes turning on Piz._

_A little blonde girl with big blue eyes who begged Veronica for cookies and called her . . . Ma. The little girl had called her Ma. Veronica looked back at Piz. His shock must have shown on his face, because she sighed knowingly. "You have a kid?" he asked, unable to help being blunt. If the girl really was two then she was probably born right after Piz left, which meant Veronica must have gotten back together with Logan_ _— was Logan the father? He had to be, didn't he?_

_But Piz didn't like the idea of Veronica getting back together with Logan so soon after she dumped Piz. He had known they would get back together; he had known it since that day in the cafeteria. But still. . . ._

_"Her name's Marlie. Marlene, actually, but we call her Marlie," Veronica told him. "Can you say Hi to Piz, Marlie?" Veronica asked the girl._

_"Hi Piss," she said._

_"She's been spending time with Logan, hasn't she?" Piz asked, trying to joke. Veronica made a face, picking Marlie up and balancing her on her hip. Marlie grabbed for her cookies, hugging them to her chest. "He, ah, he's the father, isn't he?"_

_He hoped he didn't sound too hurt. He wasn't hurt. Not really. It had been a long time since they'd dated. He'd moved on. He had dated other girls. But the idea of Veronica having a kid with Logan Echolls, of all people. . . ._

_"Depends on what you mean," Veronica answered. "If you call me her mom, then yes, Logan's the father." Piz wasn't sure what to make of that. Once again, Veronica seemed to read his expression. "She's not really my kid."_

_He was even more confused now._

_"Didn't Wallace . . . he didn't tell you anything, did he?" Veronica asked. Piz shook his head._

_"My mom came back the summer after freshmen year. She was pregnant. Long story short, she had a baby girl and left it with me and my dad. Piz, say hello to that baby."_

_"So you . . . you're raising the kid?" he asked. This was unbelievable. He had never thought Veronica even wanted any of her own kids. How much had changed in the past two years?_

_"Looks like it," she replied. "I had to be her legal guardian and I . . . I really didn't plan on making her mine. But . . . I just . . . I want to do this for her. Be her mom. So she never has to know . . . she deserves better than my mom, than our mom." Piz nodded slowly. "She called Logan her dad before she called me her mom. I don't really know when I decided that I didn't just want to take care of her, I also wanted to be her mom . . . it just . . . _happened._"_

_She seemed to realize how much she was saying and she looked away, giving an awkward smile. "That's really amazing of you," he told her, "to, you know, do that. I don't think most kids our age could do it." There was a pregnant pause. "Then again, most kids our age couldn't do any of the things you do."_

_She smirked. "That's true, I guess." There was another brief silence. "Hey, so it was really good to see you but I should actually get going _—"

_"Oh, yeah, me too," he agreed._

_"_—_ It's late enough as it is and Marlie's got to get to bed before too long," she finished._

_"Yeah, yeah," Piz told her. "I get it. I got to get back to Wallace and stuff." Her eyes flickered to his beer and he felt sort of embarrassed. She and Logan were raising a kid that wasn't their own and he was . . . he was buying beer for his buddies._

_"Have fun," she told. "It really was good to see you."_

_"Ditto," he replied. She started to turn away, heading to her car. Marlie looked at him, waving goodbye. She was kind of adorable, certainly cuter than his cousin's fat newborn with the rhombus-shaped head._

_"Hey Veronica!" he called out suddenly. She turned back to him with raised eyebrows. "Are you happy?" he asked. She smiled slowly._

_"You know . . . I think I am," she replied. "Having a kid . . . it's not so bad." He nodded. "You?"_

_"I'm happy, too," he answered. She gave a soft smile._

_"Good. See you around, Piznarski. Say bye-bye, Marlie. Say bye-bye to Piz."_

_"Bye-bye, Piss," said Marlie. And then they were gone, and Piz was left wondering how Veronica Mars could still manage to shock and amaze him._

* * *

Logan Echolls was a man on a mission.

"I'm here to pick up Sam Winters," he told the receptionist.

"Are you . . . a relative of his?" the young woman asked. It was clear she recognized who he was, and he was going to use that to his advantage.

"He's a friend of the family," Logan asked. "You know how that is." He was leaning against her desk, smiling warmly. She blushed. He had no idea what he was talking about, and if she did then she was a lot smarter than he thought.

"Oh, of course," she replied. "Well, ah, I'll just call him to the office, okay?" she asked, patting her blonde hair.

"Thank you so much, Sally," he said, his eyes barely making a movement as they flittered to her desk and saw the name. "And I like your necklace."

"I made it myself!"

"It looks like a piece of costume jewelry Reese Witherspoon wore in her new movie," he told her. "You wear it better, though." He winked. She nearly fainted. She didn't, though; instead, she picked up the phone and asked Mr. Albrect to send Sam to the office for early dismissal.

Sam Winters looked like an asshole.

He walked with a swagger in his step, had beady eyes and blonde hair too perfectly jelled. If Logan still went to Neptune High he would have beaten the kid to a pulp on principle. "Hi, Ms. Evans," Sam Winters greeted the secretary. "Did my parents call in to say I could leave or is someone here, because I have my BMW and —?"

"A BMW? Well, we might just have to go for a spin," Logan said. The punk kid looked over at him. He frowned.

"Are you —?" he began hesitantly.

"Let's take a walk," Logan said, grabbing the kid by the shoulder and steering him out of the office. If Ms. Evans noticed anything strange about the interaction, she didn't say a word. As soon as they were out of the school, Logan shoved the boy from his grasp.

"Okay, what's going on?" the little jackass asked. "You're Logan Echolls, right?"

"And you're Sam Winters, the boy who tried to force himself on _my_ daughter."

The kid looked momentarily stunned. "Look, ah, I don't know what Marlie told you, but I didn't —"

"Shut-up," Logan cut him off. "I have a gun, a wife who has an unnatural obsession with tasers, and a reputation as the son of a murdering jackass. You will never go near my daughter again. You so much as look at her, say a bad word to or about her, or happen to be within fifty feet of her when anything bad happens to her — I don't care if it's a freak lightening storm — you'll still be to blame, and I'll make sure your perfect little life becomes hell."

A part of Logan expected the little pimple of a boy to make a fight, to say, "Gee, Mister, you don't scare me!" but such was not the case. The pathetic kid looked at Logan with wide, fearful eyes.

"I swear, I didn't — I won't —!"

"Shut-up," Logan repeated. Winters clamped his mouth shut.

"You want to drink, go ahead, kid. But the moment you start reaching for girls who don't want to be reached for — that's when you cross the line. Cross it again and you'll see how your pretty little self fares in Neptune prison. Or worse. Got it?"

Sam Winters nodded wordlessly.

"Have a nice day, then. And remember — I'll be watching."

When Logan left the parking lot, he smiled at the spot from which a BMW had been taken to the impound lot and turned into a nice, shiny cube by an angry but useful Mexican man. As he turned down the road, he settled his mind on his new task: he was going to spend a little quality time with one Lianne Mars.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was a little choppy, but I wanted to get the different POVs in. For those of you who saw what was coming concerning Sam, hats off to you. The story has almost come to an end, though there is still a little bit more important background to be revealed; I hope you're excited to see how it all comes together! Please review : ) It makes my day!_

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Her breakfast smiled at her.

Marlie couldn't help but smile back, and she supposed that was the point. Her mother took a certain pleasure in silly, little things like that. Marlie slipped into the seat at the kitchen table. She still wore her pajamas and it was ten in the morning now, but it was clear no one expected her to go to school. She was glad: she didn't want to deal with that yet.

She didn't know how late it was when Weevil had found her on the beach. She didn't know how long she sat up with her parents. She didn't know when she finally fell asleep. She didn't feel as if she had slept very long, though.

She picked up her fork to start in on her eggs at the same moment her mom set a glass of juice in front of her and then sat down across from her with a cup of coffee. "Where's Dad?" Marlie asked. It occurred to her that she ought to call Lianne. What were the chances that Logan and Veronica had called her?

"He had to take care of some things in town," her mom answered, sipping her coffee. "How'd you sleep?" she asked kindly.

"Fine," Marlie replied. "Not great but . . . okay." Veronica nodded and it was quiet as Marlie took her first bite. There was so much she should say, so much she _had_ to say, but where to start?

"Your uncle Wallace called," her mom said. "He talked to Lianne." Marlie didn't have a response. "I told him to tell her you spent the night with us." Marlie nodded. That settled that problem. It was quiet as she finished off her eggs and started on the bacon, but she couldn't stand it for long.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I'm sorry that I haven't tried to call or talk to you or see you or anything. I . . . I have missed you."

Veronica nodded. "We've missed you, too."

It was silent again.

"And I _— _I wanted to say thanks," Marlie soldiered on. "Thanks for last night and thanks for always sticking that pepper spray in my bag and," she faltered slightly, "thanks for warning me and telling me never to accept drinks. He actually . . . he offered at one point, but I thought of you and said no."

"That's good," her mom said. "I'm proud of you for that." Marlie didn't know what to say then, so the next few minutes followed in silence. Finally her mom spoke again, her voice hesitant and guarded. "When I was your age, right after my friend Lilly had been killed, I went to a party. The 09ers . . . they hadn't been —they hadn't been treating me well, because my dad had accused Jake Kane."

Marlie knew that. She nodded, waiting for more. "But I went to a party to show I didn't care," her mom slowly went on. "And I . . . I took a random drink." She looked at Marlie with meaningful eyes and it took Marlie a moment to realize what her mom was trying to say.

"You mean —?" Marlie began, her eyes going wide in disbelief.

"I don't remember much after that," her mom continued. "I woke up the next morning in a bedroom of the house all by myself and without any underwear." Marlie felt horror run through her. How had she never known? All those times she had dismissed her mother's warnings, and all along . . . her mother must hate her!

"Mom, I'm so sorry —!" Marlie told her.

Veronica shook her head, reaching across the table and grabbing Marlie's hand. "It's okay," she assured. "I discovered the truth. I moved on and I was okay. It was a long time ago. But I never wanted that to happen to you, Marlie. I never even wanted you to know because I didn't want you to know that pain. I didn't want you to be jaded and hurt the way I was.

"I didn't understand it until you were born and you won't until you have a kid," her mom said, squeezing Marlie's hand, "but when you have a baby, when there's this tiny little life that is so helpless . . . you look at her and you know you'd do anything for her." Tears had begun to well in her mom's eyes, and the hand that wasn't grasping Marlie's hand was resting on her large, pregnant stomach.

"I never wanted what happened to me to happen to other girls," Veronica said, "and I tried to help other girls; I stopped the Hearst rapist and . . . but it was different with you. I _had_ to protect you. I thought it was hard surviving the bad things that happened to me. But surviving all of that would be nothing in comparison to surviving bad things happening to you."

Somewhere along the line, Marlie had begun to cry, too.

"About Lianne, about your mom —," Veronica began.

"No," Marlie shook her head. She wanted to tell Veronica that she was her mother. She liked Lianne, she did, she probably even loved her. But Veronica Echolls was her mother. She couldn't deny it. She didn't get the chance to say the words, though.

The door swung open and Grandpa Keith came into the room shouting, "I've got bagels!"

He stopped short when he saw them at the kitchen table, tears on their cheeks and their hands linked. "Hi Dad," her mom greeted softly, finally releasing Marlie's hands to wipe at her cheeks. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Hon. Hi Marlie." He smiled at her and she knew that he knew about last night. Someone must have called him.

"Hi Grandpa," she said, giving him a soft smile. He placed the bagels on the table, pressing a kiss to her head as he did so. She hadn't seen him since she'd moved to Lianne's either. How had she abandoned her family so completely? Even her grandpa, who had never done a single thing to hurt her.

"So," her grandpa began as he sat down. "Where's Logan?"

* * *

She slowly put the phone down. Something must have happened at the party. Right? But why wouldn't Marlene come home? A cynical voice in her head told her that Marlene did go home, but home wasn't with her. She sighed. There was no way to . . . maybe it would have been better for her never to have come back to Neptune.

She had thought that often in the time since her return.

But how could she resist? She really was sober. She was finally rid of Craig, and she was tired of sacrificing everything. And Marlene had understood, Marlene had . . . had moved in with her, had let her be a mother again. At least, she had until she spent the night with Logan and Veronica.

The doorbell rang. Wondering if it was Marlene — hoping it was Marlene — she slowly stood and answered the door. She hadn't expected to see Logan Echolls standing on her door mat staring at her. "Hi Lianne," he said. "Can I come in?"

It took her a moment to gather her wits. "Ah . . . of course, of course, come in," she finally said, stepping aside and opening the door wide enough to allow him entrance. He really was tall. She lead him to her living room. Marlene's backpack was leaning against the couch. He stared at it for a moment. "Would you — would you like something to ear or drink or —?"

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied. She nodded nervously.

"Well, then, please just . . . have a seat," she offered. He sat on the couch and she slowly sank into the opposite chair. What was he doing here? It had to be about Marlene. It had to be. He was a handsome man, in his own way. He had been a cute kid, all knees and elbows. She could still remember him coming over to the house to play video games with Veronica. She would tease her daughter about it, asking if she _liked_-liked Logan, and Veronica would always say. _"Mom! Logan likes _Lilly."

Then Veronica had started dating Duncan and Logan had started dating Lilly and the four of them were inseparable but Lianne couldn't stand to see them together, because. . . . A lot had changed since then. Logan Echolls had gone from the twelve-year-old who played video games with her daughter to the man who married her older daughter and raised her younger one. And now he was sitting on her couch in her living room and staring intently at her. She shifted nervously. "Do you —?" she began.

He cut her off. "My daughter was attacked last night." She stared at him in shock. "_My _daughter." His eyes were burning. "I let her move in with you because it was what she wanted. But it's your job to protect her — I'm not sure how much experience you have in this, but mothers are supposed to _protect_ their children." His voice was cutting.

"I didn't —" she said, shaking her head.

"She's a kid. Do you understand that? She's a kid. She might not realize it, but she still needs people to take care of her. You want to show up out of the blue and take her away from the people raised her and have been taking care of her for the last sixteen years? _Fine._ But that means you have to start taking care of her."

"If I had known —" she started, swallowing thickly, her mind whirling with images of all the horrible things that could have happened to Marlene. "Is she okay?"

"Is she okay? You're asking that _now?_ Yeah, she's okay, but you're a little late in asking. Weren't you _worried_ about her? She's a teenager who didn't come home! Didn't you care even a _little_?"

"Of course I cared!" she protested. "But I went to bed a few hours after she left and I didn't realize that she hadn't come home until —"

"Who's her father?" he asked abruptly, taking her by surprise. "Is he going to come looking for her? Is he going to try and take her away from me?"

"No, he's not, I swear, he's not," she assured him.

"Who is he?" he pressed, staring at her so keenly she felt at any moment he would lunge and attack her. But he wouldn't. She knew that. She knew the sort of men that hit women, and one look at him revealed he wasn't that sort of man. Still, he was so angry and. . . . It wasn't her fault! She had tried so hard to make amends and. . . . _"Who is he?_"

"Jake Kane."

There. She had said it. She had admitted it. He stared at her for a moment, as if he had half-known what she would say but now that she had he could barely believe it. "Jake Kane," he repeated slowly, as if trying to process the information. She stood, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window.

Maybe if she just said it all, it could finally be put to bed and. . . .

"I love him. Even after all these years, I love him." The words came out at a near whisper. "I probably always will. I always have. I loved Keith, too, but Jake just . . . if there's such a thing as soul mates, I think he's mine." Logan said nothing and if he had any sort of reaction to her words, she didn't see. She only stared out the window, remembering.

"I ended up with my college sweetheart Craig after I left Keith and Veronica. He lost his job, though, and he started hitting me and I left him and ended up . . . ended up with Jake. It was only for a few weeks. He — he finally told me it was a bad idea. Said he was working on his marriage with Celeste." She felt bitterness rise in her. What was so amazing about Celeste?

"I went back to Craig. I had no where else to turn, and he promised me . . . he promised me he wouldn't hurt me again. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks later, he didn't keep his promise and I . . . I wound up going to the last safe place I knew: Keith."

She finally turned back to him. He sat on the couch, watching her. "I wanted to start over. But Veronica wouldn't let me. And I didn't belong with her or Keith anymore. I hadn't in a long time. So I had the baby and I left with her, hoping at least Veronica could thank me for that, but . . . but I couldn't do it on my own. I was so lonely and scared and —" She felt tears building; she could still remember vividly how she sat in the hotel room by herself, desperate to make Marlene stopping crying and just wanting something to drink and someone to take care of _her._

"I shouldn't have just left her there. But I didn't know what else to do. It was so hard to just _leave_ . . . just like it was hard to walk out on Veronica all those years ago but I . . . I knew if I went back to Craig with a baby he would hurt her and. . . ."

"But you went back to him," Logan said, finally speaking again. "You went back to a man that hit you." She could see the disgust in his eyes. He must think her as weak as Veronica imagined her to be; he did, after all, marry her tough, hardened daughter. He would expect nothing less of women than to be as tough as his wife.

"I never said I was proud of the decisions I've made," she said, bitterness thick on her tongue again. Her life hadn't exactly turned out the way she planned. It was silent for a moment.

"Does . . . does Jake know?" Logan finally asked. "Does he know that Marlie is . . . ?"

"He knows. I told him, when she was about three, that . . . I missed her so much and I hoped maybe that he . . . I thought it would. . . ." She had gone to see him at his office. She had been planning it for weeks, planning how she would reveal the truth to him. He had lost his daughter to murder and his son had runaway but she . . . she could give him a new hope, a new child. He would take her away from Craig and they would get Marlene and raise her together and maybe together they would even find Duncan and. . . .

He hadn't reacted like that at all. Not even close.

"What did he say?" pressed Logan.

"He said he couldn't handle a daughter. He said it sounded as if I had already given her up and that it wouldn't be easy to get her back and maybe it would be better for everyone if . . . if he didn't claim her." The silence that came then threatened to stretch into forever. "He even," she said at long last, willing her voice not to tremble, "he even offered me money."

She still couldn't believe he had done that to her. Had treated her like that. He was not the man she had known in high school. He was a broken shell of that man, and Lianne hated Celeste for what he had become. "I didn't take it," she went on, "but when Craig died last year he left all sorts of debts and I . . . I went back to Jake and demanded the money. He gave it. I used it to. . . ." She met Logan's gaze.

"Craig couldn't hurt me or Marlene once he was dead, and with the money I could support myself and I could . . . it was my _real_ chance to start over, don't you see? Marlene and I could start fresh! I never meant to hurt Veronica or Keith or anyone but . . . I waited a long time to get my baby back."

Logan nodded slowly and stood. "Marlie didn't need to start fresh. She had us. She still does. If you want to be a part of her life and she doesn't mind, then that's fine. But Veronica will always be her mom. And she's not Jake Kane's daughter. She's _my _daughter. I wanted her; I claimed her. That's not going to change because your circumstances have."

He turned away from her, not giving her a chance to say a word, and started out of the living room. He grabbed Marlene's backpack as he went. She wanted to say something; she wanted to stop him. Desperation clawing at her insides, she called out his name, following hot on his heels.

He turned to her with one hand on the doorknob. "Just imagine that — Veronica's pregnant, right?" He nodded silently. "Okay and, and just imagine that the only way to keep that baby safe was to give her up. To let someone else raise her. You would do it, wouldn't you? But — but the moment you had the chance you would want her back."

"It's not that simple, Lianne," he told her. "You didn't have to go back to Craig. No one was forcing you. That was your choice. It was a fucking stupid choice, even if you were smart enough to know you couldn't take Marlie with you. But it was your choice. And honestly? Even if you didn't have a choice, Marlie's a person. You can't expect her to live her life according to yours. Once you do something, you can't always go back and fix everything."

He left then, before she could stop him. Not that she had the right words to stop him. She didn't have any words. And for what was surely the millionth time, Lianne wished that she could close her eyes and open them to a new world, to a better world, to one that had gone another way, a different way, _any_ other way.

* * *

_"Mommy, if you could have anything in the whole world, what would it be?" Marlie asked. They were sitting on a bench, waiting for Logan to return. They had celebrated the New Year with dinner and a movie and were now walking along the beach. They'd had to make a pit stop for ice cream, though. Logan had been sent on the errand._

_Marlie was wrapped up in her brand new Christmas coat, a bright blue and green knit hat from Alicia on her head and her beloved stuffed panda clutched tightly under one arm. Her cheeks were pink from the cold but she looked up at Veronica eagerly. "Mommy?"_

_"Anything at all?" Veronica asked. "Hmm, I don't know. That's a pretty big question. A pony, maybe."_

_"A pony?" Marlie repeated, her eyes wide with wonder. "What sort of pony?"_

_"A pretty pony," Veronica answered knowingly._

_"I want a pony, too!" Marlie exclaimed. Veronica only grinned. "But I want something else, too," Marlie went on, looking as if she had rehearsed this. "Ask me what I want, Mommy."_

_"What do you want?" Veronica asked._

_"No, ask me what I want more than anything in the whole world. Even more than a pony!" Marlie looked up at her as if it were the most important question in the world. Giving a puzzled smile, Veronica played along._

_"What do you want more than anything in the whole world?" she asked._

_Sitting up straight, Marlie told her importantly, "For you to marry Daddy."_

_Veronica stared. _

_"And I've pa-papared a list of reasons why you should," Marlie went on, and it was clear she was not coming up with this on her own. Veronica was still dumbstruck "First, it's easy for you to pay taxes. And get health 'surance and stuff." Veronica couldn't help but smile a little at that._

_"Is that so?"_

_"Mmm-hmm," Marlie nodded._

_"Second, Mommies and Daddies are _su'posted _to be married," Marlie told her, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world._

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah, Mommy, everybody knows that!"_

_"Wow. Everybody?"_

_"Everybody." She smiled at Veronica. _

_"Are there any other reasons?"_

_"Oh! Yeah!" she said, her eyes bright. "Also number third, you should marry Daddy 'cause you love him lots and people who love each other lots should be married, like Grandpa Keith and Grandma Alicia. And _—"

_It was then that Marlie glanced past her and Veronica realized her little four-year-old was looking at someone else. Veronica whipped her head around and found a smirking Logan standing a few feet away. "How long have you been standing there?" Veronica demanded._

_"I think I can take it from here, Marlie."_

_"Did I do a good job?" asked Marlie as he came to stand in front of the bench._

_"You did a very good job."_

_"Thank you!"_

_"You're welcome." Logan faced Veronica. He got down on one knee._

_"How long have you been planning this?" she asked. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen this coming. She had been sure she would know weeks in advance; he was never any good at keeping things from her, not even surprises. He only smiled, not answering her question._

_"Veronica Mars," Logan began. "When I first met you, your hair was in pigtails, you had grass stains on your knees, and you were the hottest soccer player I'd ever seen."_

_"Logan . . ."_

_"Now we've had a rocky relationship and I'll be the first to admit that I did not see this moment coming for a very long time. But I love you, Veronica. I love everything about you, even your ingrained suspicious paranoia. I've had my heart broken, by you and by others, but as long as I've got you, I'll be okay. I'm ready for a lifetime of Veronica Mars." He pulled out a box, opening it to reveal the ring. "Marry me, Veronica."_

_"I . . . I can't believe this," Veronica finally said. He was grinning up at her. She glanced down at the ring. It twinkled up at her tastefully. He always did have good tastes in jewelry. She had known he would propose to her eventually; they were raising a kid together, for God's sake. . . ._

_But marriage was still so. . . ._

_"Mommy, do you want to know what I think?" Marlie asked. She scooted closer to Veronica on the bench until she was right up beside her. She tugged at Veronica's sleeve. "Mommy!"_

_"What do you think?" Veronica asked, not taking her eyes away from Logan on bended knee and the ring in his hand._

_"I think you should marry him," Marlie said. "I would, but Daddy says I'm too little to be married. He says I can't get married 'till I'm forty." Veronica chuckled despite herself, and she and Logan both glanced at the little toddler who was smiling at them, so pleased with her performance. _

_Veronica met Logan's gaze again. When she'd first kissed him, when they'd gone out, when they'd come together again the summer before Hearst, all along, she'd been unable to imagine marrying him . . . or anyone, for that matter. Marriage was a reckless endeavor; it was just setting yourself up for disappointment and heart ache._

_But at that moment, she saw it. _

_She saw herself marrying Logan Echolls and it . . . it wasn't so scary._

_"Veronica?" Logan asked. There was the first trace of doubt in his voice. "I don't care when or where. I just want to be married to you."_

_Veronica turned to Marlie. "You know what I want more than anything in the whole world?" she asked her daughter, smiling and trying not to cry. She so did _not_ need to start crying._

_"A pony?" Marlie guessed._

_"Even more than a pony," said Veronica._

_"What?" asked Marlie._

_"To marry your daddy."_

_"To _— _to marry _— _YAY! Did you hear that, Daddy? Did you hear it? It worked! Our plan worked!" Marlie jumped from the bench, twirling around in excitement._

_"I heard it, baby," Logan said, his eyes on Veronica. She smiled at him, her hand clasping over the ring box. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, the velvet box clutched tightly in her hand, and she was kissing him at nine o'clock at night on a bench in the middle of the street._

_And she was barely conscious of Marlie standing up on the bench, shouting out to the passersby, "MY MOMMY AND DADDY ARE GETTING MARRIED!"_

* * *

"What do you want to know?"

Her parents sat side by side on the couch, looking at her, ready for any questions. This is what she had wanted all along. Why had it taken so long?

"Why did Lianne leave you when you were my age?" she asked. Had Veronica truly been threatened? It wasn't as if Marlie didn't believe the older woman; she simply knew there was more to the story . . . there _had_ to be more to the story.

"Celeste Kane wanted to get rid of her," her mom answered. "I should have told you this when Lianne first came back but . . . there was a time, when I was your age, when I didn't know if your grandpa Keith was really my father."

Marlie could only stare. "What . . .?"

"Lianne cheated on Keith," her father said, picking up where his wife had left off. "She didn't know if he was really Veronica's father and it didn't come out until we were in high school. And Lianne was . . . she —"

"She was cheating on him again, with Jake Kane, again. She claims she wasn't, but . . . but Celeste tried to get rid of her with threatening photos of me," her mom explained. "That's why she fled. Celeste told her to or else."

Marlie was barely listening; her mind was stuck on the fact that had just been revealed. "Grandpa Keith isn't your real dad?" she asked.

"No, no," Veronica said, "he is. I didn't know it for a while, but there eventually was a paternity test and he was proved to be my father. Even if he hadn't been, though, biologically, I mean, he still would have been my father. But I . . . it made me resent Lianne, because not only had she left, but she had — she nearly took away my father, who had stayed, who was all I had at that point."

There was silence as Marlie tried to take it in. "When did she come back? Lianne?" she finally asked.

"I found her," Veronica said. "I had been looking for her ever since she'd left. I finally found her, got the full story out of her. But she was an alcoholic and she needed help. I paid for her to get sober. I wanted her to come home. I wanted my mom back."

"But when she came home —," Marlie said, trying to put all the pieces together.

"She was still an alcoholic," her mom told her, nodding. "She had wasted my money."

Again, no one said anything immediately.

"It was around the same time," Veronica finally went on, "that we discovered who really killed Lilly. Apparently Lianne couldn't handle it all, because she left again, taking with her what little money your grandpa and I had. I didn't see her again until she came to us six months pregnant."

"And how — how old was I when she left?"

"She actually . . . she took you with her when she left the hospital," Veronica said, and it seemed suddenly as if it pained her to speak of it all. "Two weeks later you were found alone in a hotel room. We didn't see or hear from her again until she came back a few months ago."

"She left me in a . . . _hotel room_?" Marlie asked in disbelief.

"There was a note," her dad said. "Your grandpa saved it and he gave it to us to show you." He held the folded paper out to her, and the room was quiet as she took it, slowly unfolding it and reading it. Her mother sounded as if she really loved her, but . . . but a _hotel room_? What if someone had taken her and . . . done something . . . bad or something?

"So . . . you two decided that you would raise me instead?" she asked, handing the note back to her father.

"Simply put," her mom replied, "yes." Her mom sighed. "There's something you need to understand. I was the only person who could be your legal guardian, but Keith still could have been the one to raise you. But he didn't because I . . . I _chose_ to raise you. I _wanted_ to."

Marlie didn't want to start crying again. She really didn't. She wouldn't. She refused.

"Do you, ah, do you have any other questions?" her dad finally asked.

"Do you ever wish," Marlie began softly, looking down at her chipped blue nail polish, "some times . . . do you ever wish you hadn't decided to raise me?" She met her mother's gaze at last. It was a stupid question, she knew, but. . . .

"There are lots of things I regret in my life," Veronica said slowly, "so much I would change and do differently, and I think sometimes I think about all the things I would change _too_ much. But one thing that I have never, ever regretted and never will is my decision to raise you as mine. Never, Marlie. Not once. I promise you: you have never been a regret." She spoke with such conviction, her eyes so fierce, that Marlie felt the words burn into her.

Veronica glanced at Logan and when Marlie did the same he looked back and forth between them for a minute before telling her, pointing his thumb at her mom, "What she said." Marlie let out a soft chuckle, Veronica shook her head at him, and he smiled at her.

"So," her mom asked, "does this mean you're coming home?"

* * *

She went to Lianne's house. She had talked with her parents but she still needed to talk with Lianne. She still had questions. Lianne hugged her when she arrived at her house and it was awkward. Though Marlie had been living with her, they hadn't often showed one another any real physical affection.

"I was so worried about you," Lianne told her as they sat down in the kitchen and Lianne gave her a diet Dr. Pepper. "Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"No, I . . . I'm okay. It's gonna be okay." She popped open her soda can but didn't make a move to drink from it. "I actually wanted to talk to you about . . . about everything. I'm just so . . . confused and I don't even know what to think or feel anymore." She finally looked up at Lianne. "I really want to get to know you. And I . . . I want to be a — a _daughter_ to you, but I don't think . . . I don't want to hurt you, but I don't think I _belong_ here."

"Sweetheart," Lianne said softly, reaching for Marlie and grasping her hand. "I know that this is hard for you. I know it's a lot to handle and that it's a lot of change. And I would never ask anything of you that you couldn't handle. But . . . moving in here, it was a big deal, and it's going to take some time to get used to."

Marlie didn't know what to say. Lianne seemed to realize that. She stood slowly and went to the pantry under the stairs. "What are you doing?" Marlie called as she heard Lianne began to rummage around out of view. A moment later she emerged holding a shoebox.

She placed it down on the table and pushed it towards Marlie. "I think this will help."

Marlie felt she was entering a world she didn't want to enter when she lifted the lid off the box, but she couldn't say no. The box was filled to the brim with things. There was a blanket, a soft pink one that seemed new it had been used so little.

"That's your baby blanket," Lianne told her. "I took it with me when I . . . when I was so selfish as to leave you. I thought you would be better off with Keith and Veronica, but I knew I was going to miss you so much, so I took the blanket because it smelled like you."

Marlie gingerly lifted the blanket from the box. She already had a baby blanket. It had dancing penguins on it. Her dad had gotten it for her, and it was so tattered and frayed now that it looked pathetic. But she still kept it in her room, a fond reminder of the childhood she had loved. This blanket didn't remind her of anything at all. But it was soft and . . . and there were tears in Lianne's eyes.

She put the blanket aside gently and reached into the shoebox for a stack of pictures. The first showed a tall man with black hair. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt; his hands were greasy and he was leaning against a partially restored car. "That's Craig," Lianne murmured. Marlie stared at the picture for a moment, finally putting it aside to find a picture of a tiny little baby held in Lianne's arms.

"Is this . . . ?" she began.

"You?" Lianne said, a slight smile to her voice. "Yes, that's you in the hospital on the day you were born. You were such a beautiful baby." Marlie stared at the picture for a long time. There was one just like it, framed and sitting on her grandpa's mantel. But in his picture it wasn't Lianne holding a little newborn Marlie; it was Veronica.

Before Marlie could go to the next photo, however, her eyes caught on something else in the box. A stack of letters tied with a ribbon sat innocently there in that box, and clear on the top envelope was black cursive writing that said _Return to sender. _Marlie put the pictures aside, reaching in for the letters. As she had suspected, they were all addressed to Keith or Veronica or even Marlene Mars. They were all from Lianne. And they all were unopened with the words _Return to sender _written on them.

"What are these?" Marlie breathed.

"Letters that I wrote to you. I sent them to Marlene Mars at first, but when that didn't get me anywhere I tried writing to Keith and Veronica. Every single letter was sent back unopened." Her voice was soft and sad. "The first one is from when you were only two. I eventually gave up a few years later. I knew no one would ever show you the letters or answer any of my . . . questions. I wasn't going to take you away from them; I just . . . I wanted to make sure you were okay, but. . . ."

"You sent them letters and they never told me?" Marlie asked, frowning as she finally looked away from the letters to look up at Lianne. "They never even read a single one?"

"The first. I should have said that. The first was opened. But that was it." She came to sit beside Marlie at the table. "You can read them now. I know this might be too little, too late, but I want you to know that even if I wasn't around, I always cared about you."

Marlie couldn't believe it. She had _just_ talked to her parents. They had made it clear that they hadn't heard from Lianne after she'd left Marlie with them. But they _had_ heard from her. Lianne hadn't completely abandoned her. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" Lianne asked softly.

"I need to talk to my parents," Marlie said, standing up abruptly and clutching the letters to her chest. "But I'll . . . I'll come back for dinner, okay?" She mustered a smile for Lianne, and the older woman smiled in return, nodding.

"Okay."

She sped the entire way back to her house. Why did this all have to happen to her? Why couldn't everything just go back to a mere _semblance_ of normalcy? Why did the hits have to keep coming? She pushed open the backdoor and entered the kitchen, the letters heavy in her hand. Her mother was making dinner. "Marlie!" her mom exclaimed happily on sight of her. "I was hoping you'd be back in time. We're going Italian tonight."

"Where's Dad?" Marlie asked. Veronica must have noticed her mood, because her mother frowned, wiping her hands on a dish towel and coming towards Marlie.

"He and Ben went to pick up Jason from basketball practice. Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

"How come you didn't tell me about the letters?" Marlie demanded. "You made it sound like Lianne abandoned me without looking back but she didn't! She sent letters and you — I know you love me, but how could you _still_ be lying to me?"

Her mom shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. "I have no idea what you're —"

Marlie thrust the letters at her and her mom took them hesitantly, her frown deepening as she began to flip through the letters. She finally looked back at Marlie. "I swear I have never seen these," she said. "I swear."

"Then who sent them back? Dad?"

"No, he would have — he would have told me. No. Neither of us ever saw these letters. I swear, Marlie. We haven't lied to you. Everything we know, you know," her mother assured. She looked as if she really meant what she said, but. . . .

"Was it Grandpa, then? It was him, wasn't it?" Marlie asked. It made sense. If Lianne thought Keith was raising Marlie then of course she would send the letters there.

"Your grandpa wouldn't do this," Veronica said, shaking her head. "Just calm down. We'll figure this out. Here, have a glass of water and just sit down and —"

"No," Marlie said, snatching the pictures from her mother before Veronica could stop her. "I need to talk to Grandpa. I can't believe he would do this."

"Marlie!" her mother yelled. "Marlie, stop —"

Marlie slammed the door shut behind her. But she didn't slam it fast enough, because she still heard the sudden shatter of glass, the sound piercing through her. Had her mother _thrown _something at her? Marlie turned and tore the door back open, only to freeze, horror flooding her.

_"Mom!"_

The shatter she had heard was the sound of a water glass falling to the ground and breaking. It had fallen because her mother had dropped it. And her mother . . . her mother was lying on the ground, her face contorted in pain, her arm wrapped around her stomach.

* * *

_A/N: There's only one chapter left! One last memory, one last final twist, and one last decision Marlie must make! Please review : )_


	10. Chapter 10

"So Marlie's coming home?" he asked. It was about time. Without Marlie around, there was no one to watch baseball with or play chess with or do _anything_ with. Ben wasn't much fun. And without Marlie around, they had to have the weird babysitter with the blue hair come, and she talked on the phone the whole time and didn't even want to do anything with them. When Marlie babysat she would do cool things like help him on his lego castle or bake some brownies to eat.

"Looks like it," his dad replied.

"Does that mean we get to go out to dinner tonight?" he questioned, grinning at the thought.

His father glanced away from the road to shoot him an amused look. "Why would that mean we're going out to dinner?"

"To celebrate and stuff!" he exclaimed. "That'd be cool, right, Benny?"

From the back of the car, his little brother agreed with an enthusiastic, "Yeah!"

His dad only chuckled, though. "Your mom is cooking a celebratory dinner."

"Mom's cooking?" he asked. "How's that a celebration? Mom cooks _every_ night. It's no fun at all."

"Anytime you want to cook dinner, just say the word," his dad replied. Before Jason could think of a reply to that, his dad's cell phone went off, buzzing wildly against the car console. "Get that for me, will you?" his dad asked as he turned onto the highway towards home.

Jason loved answering the cell phone. His mom said he couldn't get one until he was thirteen, but he had already picked out which one he'd get. Marlie said there would be a cooler one by the time he was thirteen, but he didn't care. "Hello?" he asked.

"Jason?" Marlie asked breathlessly.

"Hey Marlie!"

"Is Dad there? Where's Dad? Put him on the phone!" Marlie demanded. Jason frowned.

"He's right here, but why? Is something wrong?"

"PUT HIM ON THE PHONE!"

She didn't have to be mean about it. "It's Marlie," Jason said, holding the phone out for his father to take. "She really needs to talk to you or something."

"Hey kid, what's the matter?" his dad asked. "Wait, hold on, slow down — _what_ happened?"

Jason was curious. Was Marlie not going to come home anymore? What was so great about living with their grandma anyway? He was pretty sure it was their grandmother she was living with. She said the woman was her other mother, but Jason didn't really get it.

It would be cool to live with Grandpa Keith, sure, but Grandma Alicia was always cooking weird green stuff that was supposed to be extra healthy or something and it was so _gross. _Mom at least made stuff like mac n' cheese and burgers and spaghetti with really big meat balls.

"Did you get her to the hospital? . . . Okay, alright, just calm down; I'm on my way right now. Call your grandpa and grandma and your uncle Wallace. . . . No, thirty-four. Tell the doctor she's thirty-four weeks along. Okay. Yeah. It's gonna be okay. Call me if anything else happens, okay?" He hung up the phone.

"What's happening?" Jason asked. A moment later he grabbed the door to steady himself; his father had slammed suddenly on the accelerator, swerving off the highway and onto an exit. "Dad, what's happening? Is Marlie okay?"

"Marlie's fine," his dad replied, speeding down the ramp. "We're going to the hospital."

"The hospital?" Jason repeated. The only time he had been to the hospital was when he'd broken his arm at the carnival. It had been horrible. The whole place smelled funny and they made you sit through all those awkward x-rays and everybody stared at you and prodded you where it hurt. "Why are we going to the hospital? Did Marlie break her arm?"

"Marlie's fine, Jason," his dad insisted. He took a sharp turn and Jason felt his stomach go in the other direction. They were speeding back onto the highway again. The hospital must be in the other direction from the house. "Your mom is having the baby."

"Cool! Did you hear that Ben?"

"Yeah. I hope its a boy."

"It's a _girl_, Ben. Mom already told you that."

His dad didn't say anything.

Five minutes later the car was swinging into the hospital parking lot. His dad was in a hurry — probably wanted to be there when the baby was born; Katie Hudgins got to be there when her little brother was born and she said it was really cool — and the car went up on the curb, banging loudly and jarring Jason.

"Get out of the car," his dad said, already shoving his door open. The key was still in the ignition but his dad wrenched it out a moment later. Jason fumbled with his buckle. "Now!" his dad shouted. It finally came undone and he started out of the car. His dad _never_ got this worked up.

Dad was now nearly dragging Ben out of the backseat, and before Jason knew what was happening, he was running to keep up with his dad as the man raced into the hospital. "DAD!" Marlie shouted, coming out of nowhere. She had been crying — she still was. Was the baby ugly or something? It was worse than that, wasn't it?

"What's wrong, Marlie?" Ben asked.

Marlie didn't spare him a glance. "They took her in to have a c-section," she told Dad, breathing heavily. "They were saying — I don't know, its like a placental, um, a placental abruption or something. They think. They don't know for sure. I don't know," she said, shaking her head wildly and looking as if the whole world were about to come crashing down. "There was all this blood and —"

"Blood?" Jason exclaimed. No one paid him any mind.

"Where are the doctors?" Dad asked Marlie.

"I don't —"

"Hey, YOU!" A tall, balding man with a bright green clipboard looked up when their dad shouted loudly. "Where's my wife? Veronica Echolls? What's happening? My daughter brought her in and —"

"Calm down, sir," the doctor replied. "You're the husband? Logan Echolls?"

'YES, I'm the husband! Who the hell do you think I am?!"

"Calm down, sir. I was here when they brought her in. She's in surgery right now."

"Jay, what's going on?" Ben asked, tugging on Jason's shirt.

"Mom — Mom's in surgery," Jason replied, not taking his eyes away from the scene. He didn't understand. Nobody said you had to have surgery to have a baby. He glanced back and forth between Marlie, his dad, and the doctor, but no one was about to explain anything.

"What's wrong with her? Is she gonna be okay? What about the baby?"

"Calm down, sir; you need to calm down. She —"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK THEY'RE DOING TO MY WIFE!" Other people in the hospital were staring at them now, but neither Marlie nor Dad seemed to notice or care.

"She is in surgery," the doctor replied, not seeming very fazed by their dad's yelling. "We're not sure, but we suspect the abdominal pain and bleeding she experienced were due to a late-term placental abruption; it happens in about one percent of pregnancies —"

"What does that mean? Is she going to be okay?"

"The doctors are doing everything they can, Mr. Echolls —"

"They damn well better be or I'll sue this hospital into the ground!"

The doctor kept talking, their dad kept shouting, and Marlie kept crying. Jason had never been more confused. Something bad had happened to Mom. Was she going to be okay? She _had_ to be okay. He thought suddenly of his friend Susan. She wasn't _really_ his friend but she was pretty cool and when she was seven her mom had died and . . .

But Mom wasn't going to _die_ . . . no _way_!

"LOGAN!"

Jason whirled around to see his grandpa and grandma running towards them.

"Mommy's in surgery, Grandpa!" Ben exclaimed, grabbing onto Grandma Alicia, who wrapped her arms around him.

"What's going on? What happened?"

"Veronica felt pain in her stomach and her — you know — started bleeding," Logan answered. "Marlie called an amublance."

"Bleeding? I thought she only went into premature labor . . . bleeding is. . . ." Grandma Alicia looked worried; she was shaking her head, her eyes wide.

"They're doing a c-section," Dad answered, "and. . . ."

Jason stopped listening, his eyes locking on Marlie. She was crying so hard her face was contorted and she was rocking on her heels. "Marlie?" he asked, going closer to her. "What's going on? What happened to Mom?" Marlie clutched her mouth with her hand.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON'T KNOW? THIS IS MY DAUGHTER WE'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Grandpa shouted.

"Sir, Mr. —"

"Sweetie," Grandma Alicia said, standing in front of Jason and blocking his view of his dad and grandpa chewing out the doctor. "Why don't you come with me to the cafeteria? We'll get something to snack on, okay? Come on. I'll get you anything you want."

"What's happening to my mom?" Jason demanded. "She's going to be okay, right?"

Grandma hesitated. "Right?" he repeated.

"Right," she said, giving a tight smile. "Let's get something to eat and leave the doctors to Dad and Grandpa, okay? Doctors are boring anyway, right? And I bet they have pudding in the cafeteria. . . ." Grandma Alicia began herding them away.

The last view Jason got of his family was his grandpa waving his hands about and yelling at the doctor, who had called over a nurse, and Marlie standing curled against their dad, his arm over her shoulder. Everything was going to be okay. Mom would get out of surgery and have a really cool scar and it'd all be okay.

"Grandma?" Ben began. "Is Mommy —?"

"Mommy's just fine," Grandma Alicia assured. "We'll even get her some pudding in the cafeteria. What flavor do you think she'll want?"

"Chocolate," Ben guessed. Grandma Alicia smiled.

"We'll get her chocolate, then. That's my favorite flavor, too. What flavor do you like?"

It would be okay. It would.

* * *

_"You're up early," Mrs. Navarro said. She was sitting on the couch folding laundry._

_"Yeah, couldn't sleep," he replied, slipping onto a stool at the kitchen counter. "You're here pretty early. When you said you liked working in the mornings I didn't realize you meant the crack of dawn."_

_She only smiled. When they'd moved to LA he hadn't sold the beach house; he was so attached to his first real home that he couldn't let it go. It was a good thing, too, because they were living in it once more until they found a more permanent place _—_ and if Veronica got her way they would be finding a more permanent place outside of Neptune._

_It was weird to be back in the little house, though; so much had changed since they'd lived there._

_"You want to talk about it?" she asked kindly. He glanced over at her and she must have seen something in his expression. "I'm happy you're back, but you don't seem happy to be back," she told him. "What's the matter?" She put aside her laundry. She had gone on working for Keith after Logan and Veronica left; she only stopped by his house once a week and Keith paid her a little something, just enough that she didn't have to get another job. She was really too old to have _any_ job, but there was only so much they could do about that._

_Now that Logan and Veronica had moved back into town with Marlie in tow and another baby soon to come, Mrs. Navarro had volunteered to help Veronica around the house for free. Logan paid her for it despite her protests, but it was kind of nice thinking of the little old lady growing so fond of them._

_"It's not that," he sighed. "It's . . . the baby."_

_She frowned. "Is everything okay with the baby? Veronica is healthy, yes?"_

_"Yeah, of course, that's fine, it's just . . . she's having a boy, did you know that?"_

_"I know, a sweet little chico. Marlie told me. She's excited to be a big sister." Mrs. Navarro smiled as she spoke of Marlie. She had always liked the little girl and Logan was pretty sure the older woman had first begun to like him and Veronica because she was impressed by their decision to raise Marlie. _

_He smiled. "It's all she talks about any more." He turned away, deciding to have a glass of water. Maybe that would make him feel better._

_"But what's making you upset? You don't want a boy?"_

_"No, I want a boy," he said, using the tap to fill the glass before taking a sip. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She didn't say anything for a moment and he thought perhaps she had dropped the subject. But she hadn't._

_"You'll be a good father," she said slowly. "Not like him."_

_He looked over at her to find that she was staring intently at him. How did she know he was thinking about . . . _that_? And how did she . . . ? "How . . . how do you know?" He almost felt ashamed asking it, but it was _Mrs. Navarro. _She had seen a hell of a lot worse than doubt from him before. _

_"I see you with Marlie. You're a good father. Better than my sons ever were. You will treat your son well. I know it." She gave him an encouraging smile, not breaking her steady gaze. Logan didn't know much about Mrs. Navarro's sons. He knew that Weevil was the son of one of her daughters, but that was about all he knew. He tried to imagine what it would be like to raise Marlie's kid because she didn't care enough. He couldn't fathom it. He thought suddenly of Lianne. He hadn't thought about her in a long time._

_But it wasn't about Marlie, because Marlie . . . well, honestly. . . ._

_"But Marlie's . . . Marlie's a girl," he said, feeling as if he were admitting to some sort of sin by even alluding to it. "He never . . ." he paused. A part of him knew he shouldn't say anything. A part of him was desperate to nonetheless._

_"He never touched Trina."_

_There. He'd said it. If only Veronica could have gotten pregnant with a girl. He could take care of a little girl; he knew it. He was doing an okay job with Marlie, wasn't he? But a boy . . . and how could he even say anything to Keith or Veronica? They would tell him it wasn't the same, that he wasn't like Aaron, but how would they know? They didn't understand. . . ._

_Mrs. Navarro stood up and came towards him, taking his hands in hers. "You are a good man, Logan Echolls. I knew the maids who worked for your parents got paid better than anyone else but I didn't know why until I went to work for him. He was a bad man, Logan. But you are not him. You might have become him. When you were young I thought you would. But you did not. You have not. You are a _good_ man. Your son is lucky to have you."_

_"You really believe that?"_

_"I know it," she assured, squeezing his hand. "Veronica knows it. Marlie knows it. Keith knows it. You should know it, too. You are like Eli. You are a good man." She smiled again and finally released his hands, returning to the couch and the laundry. _

_"I've raised many children," she told him, starting to fold a shirt. "My children and my children's children. It is not easy. But you do a good job. Marlie is lucky she got you. Her real mama would not have taken good care of her. I know. Not good care at all. But you do. You give her all the love she needs. Just like you will for your son. You and Veronica are good parents. You have grown into good people." She gave him another smile and began to hum softly to herself._

_Logan didn't know what to say. That was probably one of the longest conversations he had ever had with her, despite the fact that she had worked for his parents for years and had then worked for himself and for Keith. He took one last sip of water and then started back to the bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder before he disappeared into the dark room._

_"Thanks," he said._

_She smiled. "De nado."_

_Veronica was still sound asleep in bed. It was only seven in the morning, after all. Still, she was generally an early riser. She would probably be up soon. He crawled into bed beside her, slowly pulling back the sheets to reveal her large stomach. She was eight months pregnant now, and it still amazed him. He hoped it all went okay._

_Wallace had gotten him a book about 100 things that could go wrong with a pregnancy, and things had been pretty scary for a while. It had come to a climax when a six months pregnant Veronica threatened to clobber him to death with an oven pan if he didn't give it a rest. Things were better now. She was healthy and in a month the baby would be born healthy and then. . . ._

_Well, then pigs would fly, because Logan Echolls would be a member of a standard family, complete with son and daughter, a new puppy, a cute little house and a happy marriage. Who knew it would ever happen? Even Mrs. Navarro had admitted she hadn't seen it coming._

_"You're a good man," she'd told him. He let the words play over in his mind again and again. He ran his hand over Veronica's stomach. Was the baby sleeping too?_

_"I'll never hurt you," he whispered to her stomach, pressing a kiss to the stretched skin._

_"Good," Veronica murmured sleepily back. "He's thrilled to hear it. Stop ogling me." Logan only smiled, pulling the covers back up and closing his eyes. It would be okay. It would. _

* * *

"I don't drink coffee."

"That's why I got you Hot Chocolate." She drew her eyes away from their important task of staring at the wall and accepted the cafeteria cup he held out to her. He smiled but she couldn't return the favor.

"Thanks," she muttered. He sat down beside her, another cup in his own hands.

"I must say: Hospital coffee leaves something to be desired. That's not news, though, is it?" She didn't bother replying. "How are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Okay," she replied. "I'll be better when this is all over and my mom's not about to die."

"She's not going to die," he told her.

"You don't know that, and I'm not ten, so you can't convince me you do." He didn't say anything. That was something nice about him: sometimes he knew when not to say something. She sipped the Hot Chocolate. It was luke warm. That was probably better, wasn't it? She couldn't exactly drink it if it was scalding.

She hadn't eaten anything since lunch. _"We're going Italian tonight._"

"Do you know what caused it?" she asked suddenly, looking over at her grandfather.

"What?" he asked, looking startled.

"What caused her to have a, you know, torn placenta or whatever?" she asked. She had to know.

He started to shake his head. "Honey, I don't —"

"Was it because of stress? Can stress do that to a pregnant woman? I mean, I know stress is bad for them and stuff but . . . did I — did I do this? Because I've been so mean to her lately, and even when she was there for me and I knew, I _knew_ that she was my mom, I was still yelling at her because of those stupid letters."

"Marlie," he said softly, "you did _not_ cause this. Your mom knows you love her. I'm sure that this happened because . . . it happened. She's a tiny girl who's had multiple babies. Those aren't the best odds."

"But the stress couldn't have helped." He didn't seem to have a response, but she let him wrap an arm around her shoulder and press a kiss to the crown of her head.

"It's gonna be okay, kid. Just hold in there."

A few minutes later her grandma Alicia arrived back at the hospital and she ushered Grandpa Keith over to her, leaving Marlie by herself on the worn, hospital chairs. Grandma had taken Jason and Ben home to get some rest, and apparently she had found someone else to babysit them. She talked to Keith in a hushed voice. Marlie didn't care.

She looked down at the frayed edge of her seat. How many people had sat in this chair? How many people who sat in this chair finally stood from it only to learn from some doctor that someone they loved was dead? Wives, husbands, children, sisters, brothers, aunts, grandpas, _mothers_.

She wasn't going to be one of those people. As far as she could tell, the doctors were more worried about the baby. But if her mom lived and the baby died . . . that would still be her fault, too. And her parents would be devastated. Wasn't that the worse thing that could happen to a parent, losing a child?

Marlie glanced at her grandparents for a moment only to do a double-take. Clutched in her grandma's hands were, unmistakably, the letters. How had she gotten them? She must have found them at the house. Marlie hadn't exactly been paying much attention to them when she was hysterically crying and trying to get her pregnant mother to the hospital.

Suddenly Grandma Alicia and Grandpa Keith were both looking at her. As one, they came towards her. She didn't want to talk about it. She knew one of them must have been sending the letters back. She didn't want to hear their excuses.

"Honey, are these what you were fighting with your mom about?" her grandpa asked as they sat on either side of her. He was holding the letters out to her. She glared at the envelops as if they were to be blamed — cursed things.

"Yeah," she murmured.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what Lianne told you," Grandpa began. "But none of us have ever seen this letters. I think — _we_ think — that maybe —"

"I don't care," she replied.

"Marlie —"

"I don't _care._ Okay? I just don't — I don't want to deal with it. My mom's in surgery. Either she's gonna die or my little sister's gonna die or . . . and even if they live I . . . and I just . . . I don't care about the stupid letters. It doesn't matter."

"Okay," Grandma Alicia murmured, running a hand over Marlie's hair and tucking a loose lock behind her ear. It was silent then. Marlie took another sip of her drink. It had gotten even cooler and was now a little gross. She wasn't thirsty anyway.

* * *

The next thing Marlie knew, she was being shaken awake. She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep or even _how_ — how could she possibly sleep when this was happening? But she had, and she blinked rapidly to clear away the grogginess. Pain shot through her neck and she realized she'd fallen asleep leaning on Grandma Alicia, who appeared to have left the conscious world, too.

Her grandpa was squatting in front of her. "Hey? Sleep good?"

"Fine," she said. "What — what's going on? Did something happen?" Alarm swam through her. Then he smiled and it looked genuine.

"Everything's fine," he assured. "Come with me. Grandma will be fine." She took his hand and let him lead her down the hall. Where was he taking her? To see her mom? How much time had passed?

He lead her into a room in the maternity ward, and there was her dad, his hands pressed to a clear box. She thought suddenly of all the doctor shows she'd seen on TV. "How's she doing?" Grandpa asked. Dad glanced back at them for a moment.

"She's doing okay. They got all the blood out."

Not sure what was going on, Marlie approached her dad and saw the occupant of the little plastic box: a tiny baby, small and pinkish with her eyes squeezed shut. Her sister. But what was she doing in a box? And there were . . . there were cords twisting all around her and _in_ her. What had happened?

"Dad . . . ?" she asked as she stood beside him.

"She swallowed some blood so they had to pump her stomach. It's okay, though. They're giving her oxygen and have her hooked to an IV. They said it'll only be for a few days at most. She's gonna be okay." He finally looked away from the baby to muster a smile for her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. "How are you doing? Get some sleep?"

"A little bit," she answered. His hand ran assuredly up and down her back. She looked at her little sister, born fighting. Her mother would be proud. "Have you thought of a name yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," her dad answered. "We didn't ever really . . . come to a consensus or anything. Unless we go with Tangerine."

"Tangerine?" Marlie repeated. "You're not serious, right?"

He glanced at her, a small, familiar smirk on his face. "And if I am?"

"Then I — I use whatever big sister vetoing powers I have and veto that. God, Dad." He only chuckled. It was quiet for a minute. She had to ask. She had to know. "How, ah, how's Mom? Is she — okay? Or —"

"Your mother's going to be just fine." Marlie and her dad both looked back to see the doctor who stood in the doorway smiling at them. She was a young, blonde woman with a pretty face; she looked smart and competent, the sort of doctor whose picture hospitals put in advertisements. "The surgery went very well. She's a healthy woman, your mother."

"So she's gonna be fine?" her dad asked.

"Yes, sir," the doctor answered, nodding her head. "The surgery went very well. She's sleeping now but she'll wake. It may be a little while; her body needs to rest. But she should be fine." Marlie felt relief flood her. It was all going to work out.

"You know," Marlie told the doctor, "I never really liked doctors, but I totally love you now."

The woman grinned. "Good to know. Now, Mr. Echolls, if you could come with me, I need you to sign a few things. . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he said, and he left with the woman. Marlie looked over at her grandpa, who was smiling widely now.

"I knew she would pull through," he said. "She's too stubborn not to."

"So, that's it?" Marlie asked. "It's all over?"

"Looks like it," Grandpa replied, coming towards her. "It was a placental abruption, as they thought, but they got her into surgery right away and were able to get the baby out without a problem. She swallowed a little blood, like your father said, but she's going to be fine, too." He let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at his tiny granddaughter, and Marlie could see tears gleaming in his eyes.

She glanced at her sister. All the time that she had been fighting with her parents, all the time she'd been living with Lianne, all the time she had thought her world was coming apart, this little girl was safely inside her mother. She thought suddenly of the movie _Look Who's Talking._ If babies were really like that, could really think and understand what was going on around them, what did her little sister think of her, the girl who was so mean to the woman who served so kindly as a warm, squishy incubator?

"I'll make it up to you and to her," Marlie whispered, touching the glass as if to touch her sister, just as her father had been doing earlier.

* * *

She visited her sleeping mother, whispering words to the pale, small woman she loved so much, but her grandpa had finally prodded her into going home with him and grandma. Her father stayed at the hospital, telling them he would follow in a few hours. On the car ride home Marlie thought of her unnamed little sister, of her mother who lay sleeping in the hospital, smelling not like herself but instead like the sterile smell of hospitals.

But it would all be okay. Still, Marlie couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about it all, about Lianne and her mother and the letters and her father and her grandparents and her sister and _everything._

When she heard the front door opening downstairs, she slipped from her bed, hoping it would be who she thought it was. She was right: her father was popping open a beer when she came downstairs. The kitchen clock said it was past four in the morning. "Is everything still okay?" she asked.

He glanced over at her. "Everything's still fine," he assured. He looked tired but he gave her a small smile. "You can't sleep?" She shook her head. "I don't think I could either. Want something to drink?"

"Beer?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I was going to suggest orange juice."

She only smiled. 'I'll get it." He sat down at the table and it was silent as she poured herself the juice, glancing back at him to see him staring off into space as he drank his beer. It was light beer, something her mother had begun insisting he drink a few years ago, along with adding salads to his dinner. "Don't think I haven't noticed what might be a gut starting to form," her mother told him. It occurred to Marlie suddenly that her dad put up with a lot from her mom and still loved her so much.

She wanted someone like that someday, to put up with her that way, to love her that way.

"How'd your talk with Lianne go?" he asked her at last.

"Okay. She showed me a box of stuff, pictures and a baby blanket. I think she really does love me."

"Nobody ever doubted that. Okay, well, maybe we did, but it's not like we're mad that she does." He smiled a little, as though to lighten the mood. She didn't need it lightened.

"But I'm coming home," she told him, not letting her gaze waver and making sure her voice held all the finality her statement containted. She meant it. And she was happy to see the slight curve of a smile on her father's face as he took another swallow of beer. When he put the beer back down, though, he looked as if he were preparing himself for something.

"Did she . . . did she tell you about your father?" he asked.

"She told me he was her college sweetheart Craig," Marlie answered. "She said that he . . . he wasn't exactly the greatest guy in the world."

He sighed. "There's kind of more to the story. I don't know if she was telling the truth when she talked to me — I don't know why she would lie — but —"

"It doesn't matter," she cut him off. "I don't need to know. If he doesn't want to be a part of my life or can't or whatever it doesn't matter. I have Grandpa and Uncle Wallace and Uncle Dick and I . . . I have you. That's the best part. I've always had you." She smiled.

"You want to know a secret?" he asked, grinning a little. She nodded. "When you were really little and I would take care of you, I tried to teach you to call me Dad. I never told anybody. They were all so shocked when it worked."

"Really?" she laughed.

"Yeah," he said. "I was sneaky like that."

"Oh, I'm sure." They smiled at each other for a moment, but she couldn't help asking, "Why did you . . . why did you want me to call you Dad? Why were you willing to raise me and stuff?"

"It's complicated," he answered. "For starters, I loved your mom . . . a lot. For a while there she was really the only family I had. And I — I would look at you and think about how my mom dove off a bridge instead of sticking by me and I . . . I felt like maybe I could make up for how bad my family was by being good to you. And . . . I never thought I would have kids. I thought I would just screw 'em up if I did. But for a wealthy, privileged kid who never went by the rules and never wanted kids, I got attached to little baby you pretty damn fast."

He smiled. "That sort of the stuff . . . it's not what you plan. Most of life isn't. But if you can take the hits, take the bad stuff in stride, then the good stuff will be all the better. You'll be able to appreciate it and . . . and realize it's good when other people wouldn't."

"That's very . . . poetic," she said slowly.

"You say that as if I'm not a poetic person."

She grinned. "Oh, no, Dad, you're an amazing poet, really." She looked down at her orange juice. "You know what I was thinking about in the hospital?" she asked. He looked at her curiously, waiting for her to go on. "I think . . . and get ready, 'cause this is real poetic — I think the best things in life are also the worst."

"That is very poetic," he replied.

"No, I mean think about it. Like, take food, for example. The best food in the world is also really unhealthy. Popcorn with melted chocolate on top is _so_ good but its also a gazzilion calories. And also . . . family. Families are . . ."

"Messy?" he suggested.

"Yeah. Families are messy. But they're pretty cool, too."

He laughed a little. "Cool, huh?"

"Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no, of course not."

She finished the rest of her orange juice. "I think I'm going to try and get some more sleep," she told him, setting the glass on the counter. "As soon as I wake up, though, we're going to see Mom."

He nodded. "Before you go to bed, though," he said, turning towards her. "Your grandpa told me about the letters. Do you want to, ah, talk about them or something?"

"It's okay. I'll want to eventually, I guess, but . . . it was probably Grandma Keith or Grandma Alicia who sent them back, right? Probably doing it in my best interest or something. And I guess it was, but still. . . ."

"Actually, I was talking with your grandpa and he claims it wasn't them."

"Then who was it?"

He sighed. "Do you remember your nanny very well?"

She frowned. "I had a nanny?"

"Sort of," he answered hesitantly. "She was also a kind of maid."

"A _maid_?" Marlie repeated in disbelief. "Mom allowed you to employ a _maid_? Does Uncle Dick know about this? Because he would definitely rip Mom a new one if he did."

"He knew. You really don't remember her at all?" She thought back. She did remember _someone_, an older woman who smelled the way you imagined little old ladies were supposed to smell. Not really a _bad_ smell, just a little old lady smell. She used to sing to her in Spanish, Marlie thought.

"I sort of remember," she said. "She was . . . she was related to us somehow, right?"

"She was Weevil's grandmother, if that's what you mean. You used to call her Nana."

She did remember. She couldn't believe she had forgotten her. "Where is she now?" The last time she'd seen her was probably right after Jason was born and before they'd moved to Virginia.

"She died a little while ago," her father said. "Years ago, actually, when you were nine or ten. Her name was Lettie Navarro."

"Okay. But what — what does that have to do with anything?" He didn't say anything at first and it occurred to her suddenly what he was implying. "Wait, you think Nana, my old sort of nanny and sort of maid, sent the letters back? Why would she care?"

"I don't think that; your grandpa does — though I guess it makes sense. Mrs. Navarro was nearly living with your grandpa and your mom when you were really little, and she was still around for a while after you were born. Keith said that even when she was only doing a few chores for him, she always got the mail, but he never really thought much on it. If Lianne was sending the letters to Keith. . . ."

"But that still doesn't make sense," Marlie argued, repeating, "Why would she care?"

"Mrs. Navarro raised Weevil and a lot of his cousins because her own children were incapable. I think she knew a little something about people other than the parents raising kids. We were all pretty sure that you were better off with us — I think that's why your grandpa only tried so much to find Lianne — but while we were pretty sure, Mrs. Navarro was positive."

"That seems so . . . strange to me." He nodded.

"We don't know for sure," he said, "but I think if your grandpa or grandma had done it, they'd admit to it, and if it's not them, who else would it be but her?" Marlie had to admit it made sense.

"I wish I could talk to her," Marlie said softly. "But it doesn't . . . I don't think it really makes a difference. Sending letters doesn't make her any better of a person, right? And besides . . . Nana, Mrs. Navarro, whoever, was right. I am better off with you and Mom. As soon as I get the chance, I'm packing my stuff up and bringing it home. Uncle Wallace was here earlier looking after Jason and Ben and he said he'd help me."

Her dad nodded. "You know that if you want to stay with Lianne, you — you can." He looked as if it pained him to say it, but he said it nonetheless. "Hopefully we'll still see you a lot, but if it's important to you to get to know her, you _can_ live with her. . . . And you'll always have a home here no matter what."

"I know," she replied, coming closer to him. "I know that you'd let me live with her and that you'd always welcome me back. And that's . . . that's why I belong here." She smiled at him, and he ran his knuckles across her check.

"When the monsters under the bed are big and hairy, who do you call?" he asked her. It had been so long since they'd played this game, even though she'd loved it when she was little. She wasn't little any more, but she still loved him.

"My daddy," she answered.

"When the bullies at school are big and bag, who do you call?" he asked.

"My daddy," she repeated.

"When Mrs. Kemp's dog is slobbering all over you, who do you call?" he asked.

She laughed, remembering the large black dog that should have come with a warning on his collar. "My daddy," she told him.

"That's my girl."

* * *

"Ah, my first born."

Marlie smiled at the sight of her mother, propped up against fifty pillows and wide awake. The color had returned to her cheeks. She really was okay. "Hey Mom," she greeted. Her father had been by the hospital while Marlie was still asleep and when he came home he told her she could go on in and see her mom if she wanted.

Marlie suspected he wanted to give her a chance to talk with her mom by herself.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" Veronica asked.

"Does that bother you?"

"Come here," Veronica demanded, not answering her question. "You dad told me about the letters and how you claim it's all okay. Is it . . . all okay?" She could sense the slight wariness behind her mother's words, as if Veronica expected Marlie to start yelling at her again. Guilt flooded her.

"It is. I talked to Lianne on the phone earlier," Marlie told her. "I still want to get to know her, but she'll . . . she'll never be my mom. I already have one."

Veronica grinned. "If I knew all it took to get that out of you was a little blood, I would have been sure to do something about that earlier," she said.

"Okay, it is _way_ too soon for you to be joking about that," Marlie said, sitting down on the edge of her mother's bed.

"Did you see the baby? They brought her in earlier. They said she's really strong and if she keeps it up, she'll be off the oxygen and IV by this time tomorrow. Of course any child of _mine_ would only need a machine to stay alive for so long. The women in this family are stronger than that." Her mother seemed almost proud of her newborn, and Marlie found that rather amusing.

"I know. She's not really very cute, though," Marlie teased. "I give her a 7.5 out of 10."

"Hey! She had a hard entrance into this world. Be nice." Her mom was smiling and she looked so happy, much happier than she had seemed in a long time.

"Mom, can I say something?"

"What happens if I say no?"

"Mom, please. Be serious."

It looked as if her mom were trying hard not to smile. But Marlie had to get this out; she had to, and her mom would just have to hold in her strange, bubbly mood for a moment. "Okay. Go on."

"I love you. And I have a feeling I'm going to be really mean to you again. I'm not the world's greatest kid. But I do love you. And I want you to know that, so the next time I yell at you, you know and . . . and yeah. That's it. I love you."

Her mom reached out to her, and the next thing Marlie knew she was lying curled up beside her Mom, her head on her mother's should and her mother's hand running over her hair. "I love you, too, Marlie. You might not be the world's _greatest_ kid, but you _are_ top ten, at least." Marlie smiled. Her mother smelled like her mother again.

"Good to know." She paused. "And if you get pregnant again, I swear I won't do anything to complicate the pregnancy." Her mother snorted. "What? I won't!"

"No," her mom replied, "you _definitely_ won't because I am _not_ getting pregnant again. Much as I love all my children, none of you were exactly planned and I think four is _plenty._" A few months ago Marlie would have found some reason to resent that statement. It didn't sound bad at all, now, though.

"So how do you know you won't have another unplanned one?" Marlie questioned, imagining what her mother would do if she got pregnant _again. _It would be a lucky kid, though. Anyone who had Veronica Echolls for a mom was lucky. Jason and Ben were lucky. The little pink bundle in a glass box was lucky. Marlie was lucky. There was no way to deny that. If there was such a thing as fate, and it honestly thought her mom wasn't meant to be a mother, fate sure got a kick in the ass from Veronica Echolls.

"Because I just spoke to some very nice doctors," her mother replied. "And he doesn't know it yet, but someone is getting a vasectomy this afternoon."

It was good to be Marlie Echolls again.

* * *

_A/N: That's it! That's the end. I could have dragged it out a little longer but I think it was best ending like this. Please review! While I've written VM before this was the first VM story I really poured myself into -- it's kind of taken over my life, as of late -- and I'd love to know what everything thinks of the story as a whole :) And thanks to all who have reviewed before now!_


End file.
